;-d 


ONE 
YEAR 


BY 
DOROTHEA    GERARD 

AUTHOR   OF 

"LADY  BABY,"  "A  SPOTLESS  REPUTATION,"  rrc. 


NEW  YORK 

DODD,  MEAD  fc?  COMPANY 
MDCCCC 


Copyright  1899 

by 
DODD,  MEAD  &  COMPANY 


\ 


INTRODUCTION 

THE  year  I  am  going  to  write  about  is  the  only 
one  worth  writing  about  in  the  whole  of  my  event- 
less career.  There  are  such  things  as  long,  even 
stretches  of  road,  broken  only  at  one  spot  by  the 
excitement  of  a  raging  torrent,  or  such  things  as 
still  summer  days,  shaken  at  only  one  moment  by  the 
thrill  of  an  isolated  thunder-clap, — only  to  these 
things  can  I  liken  my  peaceful  and  mildly  dull  life, 
cut,  as  it  were,  into  two  distinct  halves  by  that  one 
year  into  which  was  crowded  all  that  I  have  ever 
known  of  violent  emotions,  of  apprehension,  and 
even  of  horror.  And  yet  it  is  probable  that  but  for 
Agnes  Jeffrey  that  year  would  have  remained  un- 
chronicled  and  those  sentiments  unrecorded.  It  was 
but  a  few  weeks  ago,  during  the  Whitsuntide  holidays 
which,  as  usual,  I  was  spending  at  Broadfield,  that 
Agnes  put  into  my  hands  a  bundle  of  letters  on 
which  I  recognised  my  own  writing,  and  tied  to- 
gether with  a  green  ribbon  which  had  scarcely  be- 
gun to  fade. 

u  You  should  make  a  story  of  that,"  she  said  to 
me,  taking  her  youngest  child  on  her  arm  as  she 
spoke. 

I 


2229072 


INTRODUCTION 


I  untied  the  green  ribbon,  my  eye  catching  the 
rosy  flush  of  the  Austrian  stamps,  and  immediately 
the  memories  began  to  surge.  Agnes,  with  her 
child  on  her  arm,  had  left  the  room  ;  I  was  alone 
with  the  dead  past.  One  page  after  another  did  I 
unfold,  here  skimming  along,  there  spelling  out, 
and  presently  let  them  all  drop  together  on  the 
table  and  gazed  out  on  the  softly  rolling  landscape 
with  eyes  that  saw  neither  the  blossoming  hedge- 
rows nor  the  vividly  green  meadows,  but  rather  the 
flat  line  of  horizon,  the  straight  roads,  the  wattled 
willow  palings  of  a  far-off  land.  In  the  pleasant 
vicarage  garden  the  first  crimson  rose  had  opened 
over-night,  but,  although  in  spirit,  too,  I  looked 
upon  roses,  they  were  roses  of  a  different  hue,  and 
of  a  lower,  more  rustic,  growth ;  in  place  of  the 
well-trimmed  lawn  it  was  waving  patches  of  grass 
that  I  saw;  instead  of  the  irreproachable  paths 
rough  gravel  richly  matted  with  dandelion  tufts. 
And  through  it  all  a  face  looked  at  me — dark-eyed, 
colourless,  exquisite,  and  stabbed  me  to  the  heart 
with  its  phantom  gaze. 

Oh,  Jadwiga,  beautiful  Jadwiga,  shall  I  ever  be 
able  to  forget  your  eyes  ?  Shall  I  ever  see  their 
like  again  ?  Assuredly  neither  one  nor  the  other. 
Make  a  story  of  it  ?  Was  not  that  what  Agnes 
had  said  ?  No  need  of  that,  surely ;  the  story  was 
there  already,  ready-made  to  my  hand  ;  my  letters 
told  it,  and  what  my  letters  left  out  my  memory — 


INTRODUCTION 


not  more  faded  yet  than  that  green  ribbon — could 
supply.  If  ever  I  was  to  do  it,  now  was  the  time. 
Sooner  would  have  been  too  soon,  for  you  have  to 
step  back  from  your  model  before  you  can  get  its 
right  proportions  ;  later  might  be  too  late,  by  lay- 
ing a  haze  of  oblivion  over  many  even  significant 
details. 

I  may  as  well  say  at  once  that  I  am  not  the 
heroine  of  the  romance  I  am  about  to  recount. 
In  order,  once  for  all,  to  crush  this  idea  in  the 
reader's  mind,  the  simplest  course  will  be  to  give  a 
truthful  personal  description.  At  the  moment  that 
I  write  this  I  am  thirty-six  years  old,  so  even  five 
years  ago  when  the  events  to  be  recorded  took 
place,  I  was  out  of  the  twenties.  My  hair  is 
brown — not  golden-brown,  or  ruddy-brown,  or 
"  shadowy  brown  " — but  just  simply  a  good  honest, 
unexciting  brown.  My  eyes  which  are  grey  can 
likewise  lay  no  claim  to  any  further  adjective. 
My  complexion  I  have  heard  described  as 
"opaque,"  and  I  know  that  my  nose  is  dumpy. 
Add  to  this  somewhat  broad  cheek  bones  and  a 
figure  more  remarkable  for  solidity  than  grace,  and 
I  think  that  even  the  most  sanguine  reader  will  not 
expect  to  find  me  figuring  in  any  ultra-romantic 
situation.  What  Henry  could  ever  see  in  me  has 
always  been  a  mystery  to  my  humble  comprehen- 
sion. Surely  the  eyes  of  all  men  are  not  made  on 
the  same  plan,  and  very  lucky  it  is  for  us  the  plain 


INTRODUCTION 


women  of  the  world.  No,  I  am  not  the  heroine, 
only  a  witness  of  that  strange  family  drama  of 
which  my  letters  to  Agnes  Jeffrey  give  the  outline. 
In  order  to  explain  how  I  came  to  be  a  witness,  it 
is  necessary  for  me  to  speak  of  my  own  affairs, 
which  I  will  do  as  briefly  as  possible. 

Henry  and  I  had  known  each  other  long  before 
I  had  got  into  long  skirts  or  he  into  the  regulation 
manly  garment.  When  we  began  to  be  fond  of 
each  other  I  can't  rightly  say,  because  I  don't  re- 
member any  time  when  it  was  otherwise.  I  know 
that  when  he  told  me  of  his  intention  of  never 
marrying  any  woman  but  myself  I  was  scarcely 
surprised,  nor  even  pretended  to  be  so ;  it  seemed 
such  an  almost  inevitable  conclusion  to  our  child- 
ish intimacy.  Neither  did  it  necessarily  mean  that 
he  would  marry  me  any  more  than  the  others,  for 
we  both  possessed  a  fair  portion  of  common  sense 
which  the  sober,  middle-class  atmosphere  in  which 
we  grew  up  had  helped  to  develop.  I  was  only 
sixteen  and  he  only  twenty,  yet  we  had  both  al- 
ready found  out  that,  although  the  little  God  of 
Love  does  make  the  world  go  round,  he  cannot 
always  do  the  same  for  the  spit,  or  that,  at  any 
rate,  he  often  fails  to  stick  something  upon  it.  I 
don't  remember  even  feeling  particularly  aggrieved 
at  this  juncture ;  merely  to  know  that  I  stood  first 
in  Henry's  estimation  was  contentment  enough  for 
me. 


INTRODUCTION 


We  separated  soon  after  this  conversation — it 
could  scarcely  be  called  a  declaration,  since  we  had 
both  known  all  about  it  long  before — but  we  oc- 
casionally met,  and  frankly  enjoyed  our  meetings. 
We  were  not  engaged  to  be  married,  whatever  our 
friends  might  pretend,  only  it  had  become  an  un- 
derstood thing  that,  unless  we  were  able  to  afford 
to  marry  some  day,  we  should  both  probably  end 
our  lives  single.  Sometimes  we  did  not  meet  for 
months,  for  circumstances  had  forced  me  to  take  a 
situation  as  a  governess,  and  to  follow  my  employ- 
ers to  various  parts  of  England,  while  Henry,  one 
in  the  herd  of  briefless  barristers  who  look  to  each 
morrow  for  their  chance,  had  chosen  London  for 
his  headquarters.  Years  passed  in  this  way,  and 
employment  did  not  come,  and  without  it  our 
chances  of  union  naturally  remained  invisible. 
Neither  of  us  had  allowed  our  disappointment  to 
spoil  our  lives — we  felt  that  would  have  been  poor 
spirited — but  there  is  no  denying  that  things  did 
feel  rather  flat  at  times.  We  had  got  into  a  groove 
of  somewhat  blunted,  somewhat  dogged,  patience, 
and  it  was  beginning  to  look  as  though  it  were  go- 
ing to  go  on  exactly  like  this  to  the  end  when 
quite  suddenly  Agnes  gave  the  matter  another  turn 
by  writing  me  one  of  her  flurried  little  notes.  She 
is  wonderfully  easily  flurried,  especially  when  any- 
thing goes  wrong  with  anybody  she  cares  for,  and 
she  cares  for  a  great  many  people  and  is  horribly 


INTRODUCTION 


anxious  to  see  them  all  as  happy  as  she  is  her  dear 
little  self. 

41  Do  for  goodness'  sake  take  care,"  she  wrote 
to  me  on  this  occasion,  "  or  Henry  will  slip  through 
your  ringers,  after  all.  A  baby  in  arms  could  see 
that  that  Somerville  girl  is  setting  her  cap  at  him 
in  earnest ;  and  the  worst  of  it  is  I  do  believe  she 
cares  for  him." 

The  news  undoubtedly  alarmed  me,  but  also  it 
set  me  thinking,  and  not  exactly  in  the  direction 
that  Agnes  had  foreseen.  I  knew  that  Lily  Somer- 
ville was  a  considerable  heiress,  and  also  a  bit  of  a 
beauty.  For  a  briefless  barrister  there  could  be  no 
doubt  that  she  would  be  a  brilliant  catch.  Henry 
might  not  care  for  her  now,  but  might  he  not  come 
to  care  for  her  in  time,  especially  if  she  cared  for 
him  ?  Not  that  for  a  moment  I  doubted  his  loy- 
alty. Although  not  bound  by  one  word  I  knew 
that  he  would  never  marry  another  woman  without, 
so  to  say,  asking  my  consent.  Would  it  not  be 
better  to  give  it  before  it  was  asked  ?  I  had  been 
thirty  on  my  last  birthday ;  and  was  beginning  to 
feel  almost  middle-aged,  while  for  a  man  Henry 
was  still  distinctly  young  ;  was  it  likely  that  he 
would  be  heartbroken  at  a  release  which  would  be 
certain  to  assure  his  career  ?  Was  it  right  to  go 
on  standing  in  his  way  as  I  now  suddenly  became 
aware  of  having  done  for  years  past,  barring  his 
free  passage,  perhaps  spoiling  his  best  chances  ? 


INTRODUCTION 


He  loved  me  still — I  believed  it,  but  if  I  were  out 

of  the  way 

At  that  very  time  I  was  without  a  situation  and 
looking  out  for  another.  On  the  day  before  I  re- 
ceived Agnes's  letter  I  had  had  my  name  put  down 
at  a  registry  office.  Two  places  had  been  sug- 
gested, one  in  an  English  nobleman's  family  and 
under  especially  favourable  conditions,  the  other  in 
a  Polish  family  living  in  East  Galicia,  but  anxious 
to  perfect  their  daughters  in  our  language,  which, 
as  I  was  told,  was  beginning  to  be  largely  culti- 
vated among  the  Polish  aristocracy,  I  had  not  hesi- 
tated for  a  moment  in  deciding  for  the  English 
offer.  To  my  insular  notions  East  Galicia  sounded 
about  as  far  away  as  Japan,  offering  no  tempta- 
tions to  my  unenterprising  spirit.  So  it  had  been 
yesterday,  but  to-day  an  abrupt  change  had  come 
over  me.  Half  an  hour  after  reading  Agnes's  let- 
ter I  was  back  at  the  office  and  inquiring  whether 
there  was  still  time  to  cancel  the  step  taken  yes- 
terday. There  was  still  time,  I  was  told,  after 
which  I  asked  whether  the  Polish  situation  was 
still  open.  Yes,  it  was ;  it  was  not  so  easy,  it 
seemed,  to  entice  a  freeborn  young  Englishwoman 
to  that  semi-barbarous  region  known  as  East  Gali- 
cia. On  hearing  that  I  was  willing  to  open  nego- 
tiations, the  head  of  the  registry  office  nearly  em- 
braced me.  She  had  evidently  had  a  lot  of  bother 
over  the  business  already  and  was  overjoyed  at  the 


8  INTRODUCTION 

prospect  of  a  termination.  I  left  the  office  with  a 
strip  of  paper  in  my  hand  on  which  was  written 
the  address  : — 

Madame  Walentyna  Bielinska, 
Ludniki, 

Post  Zloczek. 

As  I  looked  at  the  words  a  strange  sense  of 
finality  came  over  me.  I  felt  certain  already  that 
my  path  lay  toward  that  unknown  place  called 
Ludniki,  and  I  felt  it  with  a  mixture  of  pain  and 
satisfaction.  Once  over  there  I  should  in  truth 
have  stepped  out  of  Henry's  life,  leaving  him  free 
to  make  his  choice  unencumbered  by  foolish 
scruples.  It  was  not  nearly  so  heroic  as  it  sounds. 
The  dream  of  my  early  girlhood  had  grown  so 
faint  by  this  time,  so  far  off  through  constant  re- 
ceding, besides  being  somewhat  overlaid  by  the 
dust  of  this  workaday  world,  that  to  give  it  up 
finally  was  not  much  worse  than  saying  good-bye 
to  a  corpse.  But  saying  good-bye  even  to  a  corpse 
does  hurt  a  good  deal  at  times,  for  which  reason  I 
will,  with  the  reader's  permission,  skip  my  sensa- 
tions of  the  next  few  days,  for  I  repeat — it  is  not 
my  story  that  I  am  about  to  tell,  but  that  of  quite 
another  person,  whose  nature  was  very  different 
from  my  own,  and  whose  lovely  face  was  never 
shone  upon  by  an  English  sun. 


CHAPTER  I 

LOOKING  through  my  packet  of  letters  I  am  glad 
to  find  the  very  first  one  I  wrote  to  Agnes  from 
Ludniki,  a  week  after  my  arrival  there;  it  will  save 
me  the  trouble  of  recalling  those  early  impressions. 

It  was  in  October  that  for  the  first  time  I  crossed 
the  sea,  and  not  under  favourable  auspices,  for  an 
icy  north  wind  seemed  inhospitably  intent  on  blow- 
ing me  away  from  British  shores.  The  strange 
land  I  was  going  to  appeared  more  kindly  disposed 
toward  me  than  my  native  country,  for  at  Ostend 
the  first  ray  of  sunshine  I  had  seen  since  quitting 
London  greeted  me,  and  the  further  eastward  I 
travelled  the  more  the  autumn  mists  rolled  back 
from  the  many  tinted  landscape.  By  the  time  I 
reached  Galicia  the  transformation  was  perfect.  A 
faintly  blue,  but  spotless  sky  shone  down  on  a 
brilliantly-painted  world,  a  quite  different  world 
from  the  one  I  had  known  hitherto,  but  whose 
many  startling  features  were  softened  by  the  glamour 
of  that  perfect  season  and  that  perfect  sunshine. 
But  my  letter  must  speak  for  me,  I  give  it  here  in 
full  :— 

"  LUDNIKI,  October  8th,  188 — . 

"  DEAREST  AGNES, — So  I  have  actually  done  it ! 
The  sea  is  safely  between  me  and  my  old  life,  my 

9 


10  ONE      YEAR 

hopes  and  imaginings,  and  I  am  glad  it  is  so.  So 
far  as  country,  surroundings,  people,  habits  go  I 
might  as  well  be  on  another  planet  from  you  all. 
Don't  expect  my  impressions  to  be  very  coherent 
yet;  I  am  still  too  dizzy  from  my  rush  across 
Europe  to  be  certain  about  anything.  Above  all, 
don't  ask  me  whether  I  find  the  country  pretty  ; 
upon  my  life  I  couldn't  tell  you — anything  would 
look  pretty  in  this  weather.  I  have  an  impression 
that  the  place  might  under  other  circumstances  seem 
rather  flat  and  rather  bare,  but  nothing  matters  in 
this  sunshine.  We  are  on  the  beginning  of  the 
great  Podolian  plain,  which  stretches  into  Russia — 
miles  of  cornfields,  reaped,  of  course,  by  this  time, 
with  villages  buried  in  fruit-trees,  dotted,  about 
more  or  less  like  islands.  Except  for  these  islands 
and  an  occasional  gentleman's  park,  the  country  is 
almost  treeless ;  the  large  forests  which  once  cov- 
ered this  tract  of  land  have  been  cut  down  long 
ago  to  make  room  for  the  corn ;  the  soil  is  too 
good,  it  seems,  to  be  left  to  trees  alone.  It  may 
sound  a  little  monotonous  ;  perhaps  it  is,  but,  as  I 
tell  you,  I  can't  fairly  judge  in  this  weather.  The 
Ludniki  park  at  any  rate  is  not  monotonous,  could 
not  be  so  in  any  weather;  it  is  too  full  of  surprises 
for  that.  There  is  also  a  flower  garden  and  a 
kitchen  garden  as  well  as  an  orchard — so  I  am 
given  to  understand — but  all  so  inextricably  mixed 
up  together  that  I  have  not  yet  succeeded  in  disen- 


ONE      YEAR  ii 

tangling  them.  Imagine  starting  along  what  ap- 
pears to  be  a  shrubbery  and  on  turning  a  corner 
finding  yourself  close  to  a  strip  of  onions,  or  else 
stumbling  upon  a  hot-bed  (with  all  the  panes 
smashed)  in  the  very  midst  of  a  rose  plantation. 
Everything  seems  to  be  more  or  less  represented  in 
this  bewildering  miscellaneous  park;  you  can  find 
there  lawns  which  nobody  ever  mows  and  hedges 
which  nobody  ever  clips,  as  well  as  wooden  sum- 
merhouses  where  the  honeysuckle  is  dragging  the 
rotting  pillars  to  the  ground ;  a  swing  which  has 
not  been  used  for  so  long  that  a  fine,  healthy  fern 
has  grown  up  in  its  hollow.  There  is  a  want  of 
accuracy  and  method  about  the  whole  which  would 
probably  drive  me  mad  if  the  place  were  mine,  but 
which  in  no  way  seems  to  disturb  the  happy  Polish 
insouciance.  And,  mind  you,  it  isn't  either  for  want 
of  money  or  want  of  hands  that  these  things  are 
so — of  the  former,  so  far  as  I  can  judge,  there  is 
plenty,  and  of  the  latter  so  many  that  even  now 
at  the  end  of  a  week  I  have  not  yet  succeeded  in 
taking  a  proper  inventory  of  the  domestics — but 
only  because  no  one  feels  the  need  of  its  being 
otherwise.  To  nic  nie  szkodzie  is  the  first  Polish 
phrase  which  I  have  learned,  and  of  which  the 
translation  is  : — "  It  doesn't  matter."  According 
to  them  very  little  that  we  consider  vital  really 
matters. 

"The   house   itself  is   a  crossbreed   between   a 


12  ONE      YEAR 

palace  and  a  cottage — grey,  weather-beaten,  roomy, 
with  a  pillar-supported  verandah,  which  gives  it  a 
sort  of  sham  Greek  appearance — ornamented  with 
some  rather  dilapidated  stucco-work,  but  never 
rising  beyond  the  ground-floor.  The  entrance  is 
oddly  placed  toward  one  end  of  the  long,  low  front, 
an  irregularity  which  at  first  sight  offended  my 
highly  symmetrical  instincts.  The  reception-rooms 
are  large  and  appeared  to  me  at  first  sight  so  empty 
that  I  imagined  a  house  cleaning  must  be  going  on, 
and  that  at  least  half  the  furniture  was  outside  being 
dusted ;  but  as  a  week  has  passed  and  no  more  has 
turned  up  I  have  come  to  the  conclusion  that  this 
is  the  normal  state  of  things.  Perhaps  it  is  a 
mercy,  for  when  I  consider  the  average  quantity 
of  sweepings  left  under  each  sofa  and  table  now  it 
is  easy  to  calculate  what  it  might  grow  to  if  the 
number  of  these  convenient  hiding-places  were 
doubled.  Now  as  to  the  people  who  live  in  this 
house — I  have  kept  them  to  the  last  as  being  the 
most  interesting — there  are  three  of  them  to  talk 
of,  and  all  of  my  own  sex,  for  it  seems  that  I  have 
come  into  a  family  of  women  exclusively.  I  got 
to  see  them  one  by  one — but  let  me  go  back  to  the 
moment  of  my  arrival. 

"  It  took  three  hours  and  four  horses  to  bring  me 
here  from  the  station,  also  a  coachman  in  a  dark 
green  livery  on  which  at  least  five  of  the  silver- 
plated  buttons  were  awanting.  Their  absence  was 


ONE      YEAR  13 

quite  unable  to  impair  the  air  of  consequence  with 
which  he  flicked  up  his  splendidly- stepping  but 
wretchedly-groomed  horses — to  nic  nie  szkodzie  was 
what  he  probably  said  to  himself,  if  he  thought  of 
the  matter  at  all — but  to  me  the  missing  buttons 
were  a  positive  mercy.  As  I  sat  behind  him  in 
state  the  shyness  with  which  the  unwonted  pomp 
of  my  position  filled  me  was  marvellously  tempered 
by  the  contemplation  of  the  empty  space  at  the 
back  of  his  broad  waist,  and  of  the  dangling  thread 
on  which  the  pair  to  the  one  silver  button  bearing 
the  Bielinski  arms  should  by  rights  have  sat.  But 
for  this  I  don't  know  how  I  should  have  borne  the 
overpowering  respectfulness  of  the  passers-by,  for 
scarcely  an  urchin  on  all  the  way  missed  running 
out  of  his  hut  to  bow — generally  down  to  the 
ground — to  the  carriage  and  to  me  as  its  inmate ; 
my  neck  grew  quite  stiff  through  returning  the  sal- 
utations received  ;  and  whenever  we  stopped  to  pay 
toll  some  one  was  sure  to  seize  the  opportunity  of 
kissing  my  unwilling  hand.  I  wish  I  had  time  to 
talk  to  you  of  the  sheepskin-coated  peasants — a 
sort  of  hairy  monsters  they  seemed  to  me  at  first, 
and  a  very  gentle  sort  of  monster  they  proved  on 
nearer  view — and  about  their  steep-roofed,  straw- 
thatched  huts,  and  the  dark-brown  wooden  mina- 
rets that  mark  the  village  church — but  I  know  you 
are  impatient  to  hear  of  my  employers,  and  so  I 
hurry  on. 


i4  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

"  When,  with  a  final  splutter,  we  drew  up  on 
the  badly-weeded  gravel,  the  sun  was  not  far  from 
setting.  A  long,  spare,  grey-haired  individual, 
likewise  in  dark-green  livery,  but  with  rather  fewer 
missing  buttons  than  the  coachman,  ran  swiftly 
down  the  steps — to  kiss  my  hand,  of  course  ;  noth- 
ing can  be  fairly  started  without  that,  it  seems — 
after  which,  and  having  taken  a  keen,  but  discreet 
look  at  me,  he  preceded  me,  smiling,  to  the  en- 
trance lobby,  on  to  which  several  double-winged 
doors  stood  wide  open.  In  one  of  them  a  small, 
dark,  angular  figure  was  standing.  4  You  are  Miss 
Middleton,  are  you  not  ?  '  said  a  painfully  thin  and 
yet  perfectly  assured  voice  in  excellent  French.  I 
said  I  was,  upon  which  she  went  on  with  bewilder- 
ing rapidity.  c  Oh,  then  will  you  please  come  in 
here  ?  Mamma  has  asked  me  to  take  charge  of 
you,  and  to  see  you  have  everything  you  want. 
She  is  rather  worse  than  usual  to-day,  and 
Jadwiga  doesn't  come  back  from  Limberg  till  next 
week.  I  hope  the  journey  hasn't  been  too  long 
for  you  ?  Andrej,  bring  the  samovar.'  While 
speaking  she  had  ushered  me  into  the  room,  a  large, 
handsome,  faded  apartment,  with  a  few  good 
pictures  on  the  walls  and  some  valuable  carpets  on 
the  floor,  but  without  a  book  in  it  or  a  sign  of  oc- 
cupation beyond  the  music  on  the  piano,  and  with 
holland  covers  over  the  chairs.  On  nearer  view 
my  small  hostess  disclosed  herself  as  a  sallow, 


ONE      YEAR 


dark-eyed,  and  almost  weirdly  thin  little  maiden, 
at  whose  age  it  was  hard  to  form  a  guess.  Her 
height  did  not  indicate  more  than  eight  or  nine, 
but  the  absolute  assurance  of  her  manner  and  the 
precocious  expression  of  her  peaky  little  face  made 
her  look  almost  adult.  The  small  eyes  were  as 
bright  and  as  black  as  those  of  a  mouse,  and  the 
dry,  yellow  skin  fell  into  two  strangely  elderly 
folds  at  each  side  of  the  thin  mouth.  Altogether 
she  struck  me  as  more  quaint  than  attractive,  and 
it  was  with  a  certain  sinking  of  the  heart  that  I 
inquired  whether  I  was  speaking  to  my  future 
pupil.  The  little  girl  flushed  with  vexation  at  her 
own  oversight.  '  How  stupid  of  me  ! '  she  said, 
positively  biting  her  lip  with  annoyance.  l  Natu- 
rally I  ought  to  have  introduced  myself.  Of 
course,  I  am  Anulka — Anulka  Bielinska,  mamma's 
youngest  daughter,  you  know,  and  Jadwiga's  sis- 
ter, and  you  are  to  be  my  governess.  I  do  hope 
we  shall  get  on  together,'  she  added  kindly.  Hav- 
ing echoed  this  hope  I  became  lost  in  the  contem- 
plation of  her  adroit  movements,  for  the  samovar 
had  come  in  by  this  time,  and  Anulka  had  set  about 
making  tea  with  all  the  aplomb  of  a  grown-up  person. 
" 4 1  hope  they  have  given  you  enough  water,' 
she  remarked  presently.  c  There  was  a  gentleman 
here  the  other  day  who  has  once  been  in  London, 
and  he  said  the  only  way  to  make  English  people 
feel  at  home  is  to  give  them  plenty  of  water.  Will 


16  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

one  bath  be  enough,  or  shall  I  tell  them  to  give 
you  a  second  ? '  I  said  that  one  would  be  quite 
sufficient;  indeed  at  that  moment,  and  after  the 
long,  dusty  journey  I  should  have  been  thankful 
for  even  a  basin,  but  this  idea  did  not  seem  to  have 
occurred  to  anybody.  I  next  asked  my  miniature 
entertainer  how  old  she  was.  She  said  she  was 
ten,  l  of  course.'  Everything  touching  herself  or 
her  family  seems  to  Anulka  so  much  a  matter  of 
course  that  it  is  difficult  for  her  to  realise  the  ig- 
norance of  other  people.  By  way  of  making  con- 
versation, I  went  on  to  ask  how  old  Jadwiga  was. 
I  was  told  that,  '  of  course,'  she  had  been  nineteen 
on  her  last  birthday.  *  Then,  I  suppose,  she  takes 
no  more  lessons  ? '  I  remarked.  Not  generally, 
Anulka  said,  but  she  was  going  to  take  English 
lessons  from  me.  She  sat  staring  into  her  tea-glass 
for  a  minute  before  she  added : — c  But  I  don't  think 
it  will  be  for  long.'  4  Why  not  ?  '  I  naturally 
inquired.  4  Because,'  said  Anulka,  with  a  gleam 
in  her  black  eyes,  1 1  think  she  will  be  married 
soon.'  I  could  think  of  nothing  to  say  on  the  re- 
ception of  this  intelligence.  Anulka  went  on 
talking  in  the  calmest,  most  matter-of-fact  tone. 
4 1  do  hope  she  will  be,  for  unless  she  is  married 
before  I  am  grown  up  no  one  will  ever  look  at  me, 
because,  you  see,  I  am  not  pretty  at  all.' 

"  l  And  Jadwiga  is  ?  '  I  asked  in  growing  amuse- 
ment. 


ONE      YEAR  17 

"  c  Just  wait  till  you  see  ! '  No  words  can  give 
the  conscious  triumph  of  the  glance  which  went 
along  with  the  words.  c  There  are  two  gentlemen 
who  want  to  marry  her,  only  I  don't  think  she 
has  made  up  her  mind  yet  which  of  them  she  likes 
best.'  This  seemed  to  me  to  be  going  rather  fast 
for  a  first  interview,  and  for  fear  of  hearing  more 
of  the  absent  Jadwiga's  confidences  disclosed,  I 
hastily  began  talking  of  something  else.  But 
Anulka  was  not  so  easily  turned  from  her  subject. 
'  They  haven't  said  yet  that  they  want  to  marry 
her,'  she  explained,  l  but  it  is  quite  easy  to  guess. 
They  would  never  drink  so  many  glasses  of  tea, 
nor  look  at  her  so  hard  over  the  edge,  and  I  am 
sure  they  would  never  be  so  polite  to  each  other 
if  they  did  not  both  want  to  marry  her.'  I  looked 
across  with  consternation  at  the  child.  The  hor- 
rible acuteness  of  the  remark  sent  a  shiver  of  re- 
pulsion down  my  backbone.  I  had  just  made  up 
my  mind  that  I  detested  the  sharp-eyed  imp  when 
quite  suddenly  a  lightning-like  change  shot  across 
her  narrow  face.  c  Oh,  there  is  Litawar,'  she 
shrieked  in  a  genuine  child's  voice,  putting  down 
the  sugar-basin  anyhow,  and  making  a  dart  at  a 
large,  woolly,  dirty-white  puppy,  who  had  just  ap- 
peared in  the  open  door.  c  Are  you  fond  of  dogs  ? 
You  must  know  Litawar  at  once.'  In  another 
moment  she  had  gone  down  on  her  thin  knees  be- 
side the  cur,  the  correct  hostess  attitude  cast  to  the 


18  ONE      YEAR 

winds,  and  forgetful  of  the  running  samovar,  whose 
tap  I  was  barely  in  time  to  turn  off  before  the 
table  was  flooded.  That  was  the  first  moment  in 
which  I  felt  that  it  might  be  possible  to  love  my 
queer  little  pupil.  There  have  been  other  moments 
since,  but,  on  the  whole,  she  is  a  baffling  creature, 
more  witch-like  than  quite  human,  rarely  coming 
near  to  one,  and  always  escaping  one  again.  Much 
of  her  oddity  is  a  result  of  ill-health,  I  imagine, 
for  if.  seems  that  she  has  been  sickly  since  her 
birth,  and  her  family  have  kept  her  in  cotton-wool, 
and  made  her  wear  respirators,  and  never  given  her 
anything  but  boiled  water  to  drink,  and  in  general 
employed  all  the  usual  means  of  making  a  delicate 
child  more  delicate  still. 

"  I  did  not  see  Madame  Bielinska  until  next  day. 
Meanwhile  I  had  slept  gloriously  on  a  large  bed  in 
a  small  room,  which  I  can  only  reach  by  passing 
through  another,  at  present  unoccupied,  bedroom, 
but  which,  I  am  told,  is  Jadwiga's,  and  had  had  my 
choice  of  three  different  sorts  of  tubs  in  which  to 
perform  my  ablutions.  That  gentleman  who  has 
once  been  in  London  must  have  spread  a  prodigious 
impression  with  regard  to  our  national  consumption 
of  water,  and  the  domestics  of  this  establishment 
have  evidently  been  severely  drilled,  for  so  brimful 
is  my  morning  bath — I  have  succeeded  in  reducing 
it  to  one — as  to  demand  extreme  circumspection 
in  the  manner  of  stepping  in  and  out  of  it. 


O  N  E      Y  E  A  R  19 

"  Madame  Bielinska  is  not  an  old  lady,  but  has, 
I  understand,  been  a  chronic  invalid  since  her  hus- 
band's death,  about  eleven  years  ago.  She  seems 
to  spend  her  life  in  a  room  from  which  both  air 
and  sunshine  are  carefully  excluded.  The  heavily 
scented  air  seemed  to  grip  me  at  the  throat  as  I 
entered,  and  for  a  moment  or  two  I  could  distin- 
guish nothing  in  the  artificial  darkness.  At  last  I 
made  out  somebody  sitting  in  a  deep  armchair, 
with  a  silk  shawl  over  her  shoulders  and  pale  yel- 
low gloves  on  her  hands.  Those  gloves  fascinated 
my  gaze  in  the  first  moment — they  appeared  so 
oddly  superfluous  in  this  atmosphere.  She  is  a 
small,  frail  person,  with  an  almost  grotesquely 
long,  bloodless  face  and  a  generally  startled  air. 
And  just  as  the  face  is  too  large  for  the  body,  so 
the  eyes  are  too  large  for  the  face  ;  and  again,  the 
sockets  are  too  large  for  the  eyes,  which  used 
probably  to  belong  to  the  prominent  order,  but 
have  come  to  sink  so  low  that  they  now  roll 
about,  rather  at  random,  in  two  hollow,  purple- 
veined  caverns.  There  is  a  scared  look  some- 
where in  their  depths,  as  of  a  person  who  has  seen 
some  dreadful  sight,  the  terror  of  which  has  re- 
mained permanently  fixed  in  his  eyes.  She  did 
not  seem  to  take  much  interest  in  my  arrival,  but 
spoke  to  me  in  a  politely  weary  tone,  explaining 
that  it  was  by  the  wish  of  her  daughter  Jadwiga 
that  she  had  gone  to  the  trouble  of  procuring  an 


20  ONE      YEAR 

English  governess.  Jadwiga  was  anxious  to  learn 
English,  principally,  it  seems,  in  order  to  be  able 
to  read  Byron  in  the  original.  I  don't  know,  by 
the  bye,  if  this  argues  very  promisingly  for  her  lit- 
erary tastes.  After  ten  minutes'  limp  talk  I  was 
dismissed  out  of  the  dim  and  sickeningly  scented 
little  room.  I  fancy  I  shall  not  see  very  much  of 
my  real  employer.  To  my  mind  she  looks  like  a 
person  who  has  gone  through  such  heavy  troubles 
that  her  one  desire  is  for  peace  and  seclusion. 

"  As  for  the  eldest  daughter,  that  Jadwiga  whose 
name  I  had  heard  so  often,  it  was  only  this  morn- 
ing that  I  had  my  first  glimpse  of  her.  All  this 
time  she  has  been  away  at  Limberg,  not  enjoying 
herself,  however,  or,  at  least,  I  suppose  not,  since 
as  I  understood  from  the  chatter  of  Anulka — who 
all  this  time  has  very  carefully  looked  after  me — 
she  has  been  spending  most  of  her  time  in  the 
dentist's  hands.  This  morning  I  was  walking  in 
the  garden  before  breakfast,  enjoying  the  pure, 
keen  sunshine  and  feasting  my  eyes  on  the  spider- 
webs  all  sparkling  with  dewdrops  and  stiffened 
with  just  the  lightest  touch  of  frost,  when,  on 
turning  the  corner  of  a  path,  I  came  full  upon  a 
brilliant  but  somewhat  startling  vision — a  tall 
young  girl,  sauntering  idly  along,  with  her  hat  in 
her  hand  and  a  wreath  of  crimson  and  yellow 
leaves — such  leaves  as  hung  on  every  branch  in 
the  wide  park — resting  lightly  on  a  rather  untidy 


ONE      YEAR  21 

dark  head.  Fragments  of  the  very  gossamer  webs 
which  draped  the  bushes  clung  to  the  shining 
leaves,  and  the  frosty  dewdrops  flashed  like  dia- 
monds in  her  hair.  She  had  her  loose  travelling 
cloak  about  her  still ;  it  hung  in  long,  pale  folds  to 
her  feet,  and,  in  conjunction  with  that  leafy  wreath 
might  very  fairly  represent  the  garb  of  some  an- 
cient priestess  on  her  way  back  from  morning 
sacrifice.  She  looked  white  and  tired,  and  her 
dark  eyes  were  heavy.  I  fancy  that  under  more 
favourable  circumstances  she  must  be  beautiful,  in 
part  I  am  not  sure  that  I  did  not  find  her  beautiful 
even  in  that  moment,  and  in  spite  of  the  faintly 
blue  tinge  under  the  eyes,  which  showed  that  she 
had  not  slept  all  night,  but  it  was  a  rather  too  fan- 
tastical and  unconventional  sort  of  beauty  to  en- 
tirely suit  my  sober  taste.  At  sight  of  me  she 
brightened  suddenly.  *  At  last ! '  she  said  with  a 
wonderfully  radiant  smile.  CI  have  been  waiting 
for  you  so  long  ! '  I  asked  in  some  astonishment 
how  this  could  be,  not  immediately  realising  who 
she  was.  c  Yes,'  she  said,  c  I  got  home  very  early, 
when  you  were  all  still  asleep,  and  I  knew  that  if 
I  once  lay  down  I  should  sleep  till  evening,  for  I 
have  been  travelling  all  night,  but  I  was  too  curi- 
ous to  see  you.  I  am  to  be  your  pupil,  too,  you 
know — in  English — and  I  am  just  dying  to  begin.' 
*  But  surely  not  to-day  ? '  I  objected,  both  pleased 
and  amused  with  her  eagerness.  c  No,'  she  said, 


22  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

4  of  course,  not  to-day ;  to-day  I  only  meant  to 
look  at  your  face,  so  as  to  make  up  my  mind  about 
you.  I  could  not  have  slept  quietly  without  that. 
You  kept  me  waiting  rather  long ;  and  I  passed 
the  time  by  making  this  wreath — do  you  think  it 
very  ridiculous  ? '  I  said  I  found  it  very  becoming, 
as  was  not  to  be  denied,  and  asked  her  then 
whether  she  had  yet  made  up  her  mind  about  me  ? 
She  looked  at  me  very  long  and  earnestly  before 
she  said :  *  I  believe  I  have ;  it  sounds  sudden, 
doesn't  it  ?  but  I  do  most  things  suddenly.  Oh, 
Miss  Middleton,  I  wonder  whether  you  will  be  my 
friend  ? '  As  I  am  not  able  to  do  things  as  sud- 
denly as  this,  I  could  only  say  that  I  hoped  I 
should,  but  the  eager  look  in  her  beautiful  eyes  and 
the  wonderful  radiancy  of  her  smile  made  me  feel 
horribly  prim  and  British  as  I  expressed  this  meas- 
ured desire.  4 1  want  a  friend  very  badly,'  said 
Jadwiga,  but  she  was  already  beginning  to  yawn ; 
4  we  shall  talk  about  that  later ;  good-bye  in  the 
meantime,  and  good-night,'  and  with  another 
sleepy  smile  she  turned  away.  Having  gone  only 
a  few  steps  she  came  back  again  abruptly.  4  Is  it 
— is  it  not  very  dreadful  to  be  so  far  away  from 
one's  country  ? '  she  inquired,  almost  shyly,  and 
looking  at  me  with  quite  a  new  expression  in  her 
eyes.  *  Sometimes  it  is  better  to  be  far  away,'  I 
evasively  replied.  '  You  must  try  not  to  be  un- 
happy with  us,'  she  said  earnestly.  l  If  I  can  help 


ONE      YEAR  23 

you  to  forget  how  far  away  you  are,  I  shall  do  so,' 
and  then  I  felt  my  two  hands  taken  and  sharply 
pressed,  while  a  quick,  hot,  little  kiss  fell  on  my 
cold  cheek,  and  then  she  was  gone  again,  and  I 
was  alone.  Sudden,  yes,  undeniably  it  was  sud- 
den, but  I  cannot  say  that  it  was  unpleasant.  Is  it 
not  almost  enough  to  make  one  love  her  already  ? 

"  Presently,  when  I  passed  through  the  outer 
room,  I  could  see  a  slender  form  lying  on  the 
hitherto  vacant  bed,  where  Jadwiga  had  flung  her- 
self down,  travelling  cloak  and  all,  not  having  taken 
the  time  to  wash  her  hands  or  even  to  remove  her 
wreath.  She  has  not  moved  since;  each  time  I 
pass  through  the  room  I  can  see  the  fantastically 
crowned  head  half  buried  in  the  pillow,  and  hear 
the  sound  of  her  regular  breathing.  I  shall  tell 
you  more  of  her  when  I  know  more  ;  the  impres- 
sion she  has  left  on  my  mind  is  as  yet  a  mixture  of 
fascination  and  consternation.  If  we  ever  become 
friends  it  could  only  be  through  the  working  of  the 
law  of  contrast. 

"  This  is  all  for  to-day.  With  Jadwiga's  appear- 
ance the  small  family  circle  appears  to  be  complete, 
and  she  promises  to  be  the  most  interesting  mem- 
ber of  the  group.  By  next  time  I  write  I  shall 
probably  have  got  more  used  to  my  surroundings. 
The  owls  in  the  bushes  that  grow  straight  against 
my  windows  hoot  at  night  rather  more  than  is 
pleasant,  also  there  is  a  pane  broken  in  my  win- 


24  O  N  E      Y  K  A  R 

dow.  I  have  mentioned  the  matter  to  Andrej,  the 
venerable  footman,  who  appears  to  be  the  person 
of  most  authority  in  the  establishment,  but  he 
pointed  out  to  me  that,  as  the  whole  panes  were 
decidedly  in  the  majority,  there  could  not  be  much 
wrong,  an  argument  which  had  not  before  struck 
me.  No  doubt  he  is  right — to  nic  nie  szkodzie — 
you  see  I  am  doing  my  best  to  assimilate  myself  to 
my  surroundings. 

"  Good-bye,  my  dearest.     Write    soon    to   the 
poor  exile,  but  remember  to  send  me  no  messages. 
"  Yours  ever, 

"  ELEANOR  MIDDLETON." 


CHAPTER  II 

IN  the  days  that  followed  on  the  writing  of  that 
letter  I  was  able  to  form  a  clear  opinion  both  of 
Jadwiga's  looks  and  of  her  character.  About  the 
former  I  had  no  difficulty  in  making  up  my  mind. 
In  the  moment  that  she  made  her  appearance  at 
tea  that  afternoon,  rested,  in  fresh  attire  and  with 
her  hair  in  order,  I  felt  satisfied  that  she  was  beau- 
tiful, although  not  in  any  style  that  I  had  hitherto 
had  personal  experience  of.  Perhaps  she  was  al- 
most more  graceful  and  charming  than  strictly 
speaking  beautiful ;  it  is  even  quite  conceivable 
that  but  for  the  light  behind  it,  that  delicately  pale 
face  with  the  rather  full  lips  and  the  unimportant 
nose  might  have  missed  being  beautiful.  Anulka 
had  the  same  cast  of  features  and  almost  the  same 
colour  of  eyes,  only  with  a  keener  look  in  them, 
but  it  was  quite  clear  even  now  that,  although  she 
might  possibly  become  what  is  termed  "  piquante," 
she  could  never  be  beautiful,  and  just  because  that 
light  was  awanting. 

To  my  mind  Jadwiga  had  something  of  the  ap- 
pearance of  a  plant  grown  up  in  the  dark;  her 
beautifully  clear  complexion  had  grown  over-white 
from  want  of  fresh  air,  and  over-soft,  too,  as  I 
25 


26  ONE      YEAR 

gradually  found  out.  Constitutionals  are  unknown 
things  in  Poland,  and  nobody  in  their  senses  thinks 
of  going  out  except  in  fine  weather,  by  which  is 
understood  not  only  absence  of  rain,  but  also  of 
wind  or  mud  or  dust,  or  anything  beyond  the  most 
moderate  frost.  As  the  winter  lasts  quite  six 
months  it  is  easy  to  calculate  the  amount  of  fresh 
air  imbibed  by  the  regulation  Polish  lady.  Except 
on  the  balmiest  summer  afternoons  or  the  most 
tepid  moonlight  nights  going  out  seems  in  general 
to  be  considered  in  the  light  of  a  necessary  evil. 
Jadwiga's  face  looked  as  if  it  had  never  encoun- 
tered a  cutting  wind,  and  probably  it  never  had. 
But  that  colourless  skin  was  not  the  result  of  ill- 
health — indeed  if  her  health  had  not  been  excep- 
tionally good  it  could  never  have  stood  the  indoor 
regime — but  only  of  circumstances.  Her  eyes 
looked  all  the  darker  for  it;  they  were  really 
brown,  but  by  contrast  with  that  almost  dead  white 
skin  looked  black.  When  she  was  tired  or  out  of 
spirits  the  whiteness  became  almost  ghastly  ;  when, 
on  the  other  hand,  exercise  or  excitement  brought 
a  faint  tinge  of  colour  to  her  cheeks,  she  became 
in  one  moment  ten  times  more  beautiful  than 
usual.  Her  hands  were  models  of  what  a  hand 
should  be,  given  that  it  is  not  meant  to  be  used  in 
any  sense  as  an  instrument — beautifully  slender  and 
beautifully  white,  and  so  soft  that  even  to  dream 
of  its  caresses  was  bliss — quite  useless,  indeed,  so 


ONEYEAR  27 

far  as  work  was  concerned,  but  so  good  to  look  at 
that  the  spectator  felt  a  sense  of  personal  gratitude 
toward  the  person  who  afforded  him  this  treat. 
From  the  first  the  mere  sight  of  these  hands  made 
me  feel  painfully  conscious  of  my  own,  but  I  do 
not  think  that  even  the  hope  of  rivalling  these 
works  of  art  could  have  reconciled  me  to  wearing 
gloves  in  the  house  as  Jadwiga  was  apt  to  do  on 
the  smallest  provocation.  Her  proximity  alone 
had  a  way  of  making  me  feel  unpleasantly  com- 
monplace and  vulgarly  robust.  I  think  I  must 
have  liked  her  from  the  first  in  spite  of  this  hu- 
miliating observation,  and  in  spite  of  much  that 
startled  my  somewhat  narrowly  British  ideas.  I 
came  soon  to  understand  that  she  was  an  outcome 
of  her  country  and  social  usages,  and  to  accept  her 
unmurmuringly  as  such.  It  was  indeed  hard  not 
to  fall  under  the  charm  of  her  frankly  enthusiastic 
personality.  There  was  something  peculiarly  in- 
sinuating about  Jadwiga,  something  that  wound  its 
way  into  your  affections  before  you  were  aware 
that  you  had  left  a  chink  open.  Her  ardent  tem- 
perament was  joined  to  a  child's  candour;  she  had 
the  carriage  of  a  queen  and  the  caressing  ways  of 
a  kitten — but  of  a  kitten  whose  whole  soul  looked 
out  of  its  eyes.  There  never  was  the  shadow  of 
mystery  about  Jadwiga  ;  her  openness  at  first  often 
embarrassed  me. 

"  I  had  three  teeth  stuffed  this  week,"  she  an- 


28  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

nounced  to  me  smiling,  as  she  sipped  her  tea, 
"  and  you  can't  imagine  how  happy  I  feel  after  it. 
I  had  been  .putting  it  off  as  long  as  I  could,  for  I 
am  an  awful  coward,  but  then  I  began  to  be  afraid 
I  should  lose  a  tooth,  and  that  would  never  have 
done,  for  I  am  also  awfully  vain ;  and  besides 
that  it  hurt  me  to  eat  jam,  and  I  am  awfully 
greedy " 

"  Cowardly,  vain,  and  greedy,"  summed  up 
Anulka,  with  her  elderly  smile,  "  what  a  nice  idea 
Miss  Middleton  will  get  of  you." 

"  It's  better  she  should  know  the  worst  at 
once,"  laughed  Jadwiga.  "  Oh,  Anulka,  do  give 
me  some  more  of  that  rose  jam ;  I  can  eat  it  now 
with  a  good  conscience." 

"  It  was  with  rose  jam  that  you  spoiled  your 
teeth  last  time,"  remarked  Anulka  almost  severely, 
but  she  handed  the  plate  all  the  same. 

"  Is  that  your  real  Polish  rose  jam  ?  "  I  asked. 
"  If  you  will  give  me  some,  too,  Anulka,  I  shall 
risk  spoiling  my  teeth  with  it,  and  if  it  does  not 
spoil  them  more  than  it  has  done  your  sister's  I 
shall  be  able  to  bear  the  consequences."  As  I 
spoke  I  could  not  help  glancing  at  the  tiny,  shin- 
ing teeth,  white  as  porcelain,  which  kept  appearing 
between  Jadwiga's  crimson  lips  each  time  she  car- 
ried the  spoon  to  her  mouth.  Certainly  she  did 
not  look  in  need  of  a  dentist.  I  have  generally 
noticed  that  it  is  the  people  who  are  always  talking 


ONE      YEAR  29 

about  their  dentist  who  have,  apparently,  the  most 
perfect  teeth,  perhaps  because  of  the  constant  at- 
tention paid  to  them ;  at  least  it  is  so  in  Galicia, 
where  dentists  play  as  great  a  role  as  do  confection- 
ers, and  owe  to  the  latter  at  least  half  of  their  oc- 
cupation. 

Jadwiga  laughed  over  my  last  remark.  She  had 
a  wonderfully  low  and  yet  clear  laugh. 

"  Can  you  English  pay  compliments,  too  ?  "  she 
asked.  "  I  thought  it  was  only  we  who  did  that, 
and  that  you  were  all  much  too  sensible  and  prac- 
ticable. I  wonder  if  I  should  like  England  ?  Is 
it  really  true  that  one  is  not  allowed  even  to  play 
the  piano  on  a  Sunday  ?  I  don't  think  I  could 
stand  that  part." 

"  I  think  there  would  be  several  parts  you  could 
not  stand,"  I  said,  and  proceeded  to  give  her  a 
sketch  of  an  orthodox  English  Sunday,  as  spent  in 
the  last  family  I  had  been  in — rigidly  strict,  Low 
Church  people.  The  eyes  of  both  Jadwiga  and 
Anulka  widened  with  amazement  as  they  listened. 

"  But  that  is  worse  than  Ash  Wednesday  or 
Good  Friday,"  said  Anulka  in  horror-stricken 
tones,  "except  for  the  eating.  I  suppose  you  are 
at  least  allowed  to  eat  as  much  as  you  like  ?  " 

I  replied  that  that  consolation  was  left  us,  which 
slightly  relieved  Anulka's  mind,  but  Jadwiga  re- 
mained pensive. 

u  But  does  it  not  just  kill  you  with  dulness  ?  " 


3o  ONE      YEAR 

she  asked  at  last.  "  Do  you  not  all  hate  Sun- 
day ?  " 

"  Not  those  to  whom  dulness  means  rest,"  I  re- 
plied. 

She  gave  me  a  quick,  deprecating  glance ;  no 
words  could  have  begged  my  pardon  more  dis- 
tinctly. "  Oh,  how  stupid  I  am.  Of  course  the 
dulness  does  not  matter  when  one  is  tired,  and  I 
am  sure  you  have  been  tired  very  often,  but  we 
will  not  let  you  tire  yourself  here,"  and  putting 
out  her  hand  she  touched  mine  with  the  lightest 
and  yet  softest  of  caresses. 

"  Now  with  us,"  she  went  on,  "  Sunday  is  just 
the  least  dull  day  in  the  week,  sometimes  quite  gay, 
for  very  often  our  neighbours  come  and  look  us  up 
in  order  to  exchange  the  impressions  of  the  week. 
It's  the  only  day  they  are  not  bothering  about  their 
fields,  and  about  the  only  day  that  Mamma  comes 
out  of  her  room  in  order  to  do  the  honours  of  the 
house ;  it's  only  on  Sundays  that  our  board  ever 
becomes  festive  now  or  that  the  cards  are  brought 
out.  By  the  bye,  Miss  Middleton,  will  you  not  be 
horrified  to  see  playing-cards  on  a  Sunday  ?  Will 
you  be  able  to  get  used  to  them  ?  " 

I  replied  that  I  should  do  my  best.  "  But  your 
Sundays  are  not  always  so  gay,"  I  objected,  "  for  I 
have  spent  one  here,  and  there  were  no  visitors  at 
all." 

u  That  was  because  Jadwiga  was  in  Limberg," 


ONE      YEAR  31 

promptly  replied  Anulka,  with  the  odiously  acute 
smile  which  at  moments  made  me  detest  her. 
"  They  don't  come  here  to  talk  to  Mamma,  or  me, 
I'm  quite  sure  about  that ;  and  they  all  knew  she 
was  away — we  always  know  everything  about  each 
other  here  j  you  just  see  if  they  don't  turn  up  next 
Sunday,  just  as  if  cards  of  invitation  had  been  sent 
round." 

44  Very  likely  they  will,"  said  Jadwiga,  with  an 
inscrutable  smile,  delicately  licking  a  morsel  of 
sugared  roseleaf  from  off  her  spoon.  "  But  that 
won't  necessarily  make  it  gay,  not  unless  the  right 
ones  come." 

"  Make  your  mind  easy  on  that  point, "  said 
Anulka  soothingly,  "the  right  ones  will  come,  and 
the  wrong  ones  too,  and  ah,  I  do  hope  that  Wlad- 
imir  will  bring  me  the  grapes  he  promised." 

"And  that  Mazurka  of  R.oszkowski's,"  added 
Jadwiga. 

41  You  haven't  heard  Jadwiga  play  yet  ?  "  asked 
Anulka  abruptly. 

"You  sweet  little  goose,"  laughed  Jadwiga, 
"  when  should  Miss  Middleton  have  heard  me  ? 
While  I  was  asleep  ?  " 

41  But  play  something  for  her  now.  I  am  sure 
you  must  want  to  hear  Jadwiga  play  ? "  she  asked 
eagerly. 

44  Let  it  be,"  said  Jadwiga,  rising  and  going  some- 
what languidly  to  the  piano. 


32  ONEYEAR 

The  first  thing  she  played  did  not  enchant  me, 
being  the  elaborate  rendering  of  "  Home,  Sweet 
Home,"  and  played  in  a  somewhat  laborious  fash- 
ion which  betrayed  more  drill  than  anything  else. 
The  intention  was  obvious,  but  the  result  calcu- 
lated to  raise  her  kindness  in  my  estimation,  rather 
than  her  talent.  But  then,  without  any  pause,  she 
went  on  into  Chopin,  and  immediately  a  marvel- 
lous change  came  over  the  spirit  of  her  play.  She 
was  doing  something  now  that  she  understood  and 
loved,  something  that  helped  her  to  express  a  little 
of  what  was  within  her;  and  there  was  a  great 
deal  within  her,  as  I  was  to  find  out  in  time.  With 
astonishment  I  hearkened  to  the  vibrating  force 
of  the  chords  struck  by  that  slender  and  seemingly 
so  fragile  hand  ;  almost  with  consternation  I  recog- 
nised the  breathless  passion  that  seemed  to  cry  out 
of  some  of  those  wonderful  notes,  a  rebellious  pas- 
sion, unable,  or  perhaps  only  unwilling,  to  contain 
itself.  Chopin's  mode  of  expression  was  one  pe- 
culiarly congenial  to  her  nature,  which  either  by 
the  affinity  of  race  or  some  more  subtle  affinity  of 
spirit,  seemed  to  guess  the  composer's  intention  in 
passages  which  hitherto  had  always  failed  to  move 
me,  and  at  which  I  now  suddenly  felt  the  tears 
standing  in  my  eyes.  For  nearly  an  hour  she 
played  on  wandering  from  Mazurkas  to  Impromptus 
and  back  again  to  Mazurkas  and  Nocturnes,  with 
a  scrap  of  the  funeral  march  in  between.  I  have 


ONEYEAR  33 

never  been  a  musician  myself  in  the  sense  of  never 
having  played  any  instrument,  but  I  have  always 
been  ridiculously  susceptible  to  good  music,  and  as 
I  now  listened  in  the  falling  dusk  I  felt  that  Lud- 
niki  was  going  to  possess  at  least  one  great  charm 
for  me,  independent  of  the  personal  one  of  the 
player,  whose  slender  silhouette  was  growing  every 
minute  more  phantom-like  against  the  fast-failing 
light.  I  was  alone  with  her  now,  for  Anulka  had 
early  disappeared.  She  could  not  have  rested  until 
I  had  heard  Jadwiga  play  ;  indeed,  her  undisguised 
pride  in  her  sister  was  one  of  the  redeeming  points 
in  the  little  imp's  character,  but  a  small  dose  of 
music  sufficed  for  her  personally. 

That  evening  while  I  was  brushing  out  my  hair 
for  the  night,  my  door  opened,  without  any  previ- 
ous knock,  and  Jadwiga's  head  appeared. 

"  May  I  talk  a  little  ?  "  she  asked  almost  humbly, 
"  or  are  you  too  sleepy  to  listen  ?  You  see  I  have 
slept  all  day  and  I  am  horribly  wide-awake." 

Although  a  little  startled  at  the  intrusion  I  felt  it 
morally  impossible  in  face  of  those  pleading  eyes 
to  say  No.  It  took  me  some  time  to  learn  that 
what  we  call  intrusion  is  here  only  neighbourly,  for 
the  idea  of  privacy  is  very  faintly  developed  in 
those  countries. 

Jadwiga,  without  further  invitation,  sat  down  in 
her  embroidered  dressing-jacket  upon  my  bed,  and 
went  on  plaiting  her  hair,  with  a  pensive  smile 


34  ONEYEAR 

about  her  lips,  as  though  amused  in  spirit  at  some- 
thing. 

"  I  wonder  how  you  will  like  our  neighbours," 
she  presently  began.  "  I  mean  those  that  you  will 
see  on  Sunday.  I  do  hope  the  right  ones  will 
come ;  I  should  like  to  show  them  to  you.  By 
the  bye,  Miss  Middleton,  are  you  good  at  keeping 
secrets  ?  Oh  yes,  I  know  you  are,  I  saw  that  in 
your  face  at  once." 

"You  are  not  going  to  tell  me  any  ?  "  I  asked  in 
some  apprehension ;  this  really  was  a  little  too 
sudden. 

"  Not  to-day,"  said  Jadwiga,  "  because  I  have 
not  got  any  quite  ready  to  tell,  but  perhaps  I  shall 
have  soon.  Would  you  mind  very  much  if  I 
bothered  you  with  my  secrets  ?  " 

"N — no,"  I  said,  not  quite  truthfully,  for  un- 
asked-for  confidences  are  things  I  have  suffered 
from  all  my  life.  How  it  comes  that  people  should 
always  be  so  anxious  to  tell  me  their  secrets  I  can- 
not imagine.  I  certainly  never  press  them,  and  I 
take  myself  to  be  a  rather  uninviting  sort  of  per- 
son— but  so  it  is.  Formerly  I  used  to  mind  it 
more  than  I  do  now,  for  I  fancied  that  they  would 
expect  confidences  in  return,  but  I  generally  dis- 
cover to  my  relief  that  the  arrangement  is  not 
meant  to  be  reciprocal. 

"  You  see,"  went  on  Jadwiga,  picking  out  of  her 
hair  a  red  maple-leaf  which  had  stuck  there  among 


O  N  E      Y  E  A  R  35 

the  thick,  black  tresses,  a  remnant  of  that  morning's 
wreath,  "  if  I  ever  have  anything  to  say  about  it  I 
don't  know  to  whom  to  talk.  Mamma  is  much 
too  unwell — and  well,  just  tired  of  everything  to 
take  a  lively  interest  in  my  small  affairs.  I  know, 
of  course,  that  she  loves  me,  but  I  do  not  want  to 
weary  her,  and  Anulka  is  much  too  young  to  un- 
derstand " — I  rather  doubted  this  in  my  own  mind 
— "  and  every  one  else  is  far  away.  I  want  some 
one  dreadfully ;  even  before  you  came  I  wanted  to 
tell  you  everything ;  that  is  what  made  me  so  fear- 
fully anxious  to  know  what  you  were  like.  I  had 
been  waiting  for  you  so  impatiently.  Of  course 
there  have  been  other  governesses  in  the  house,  but 
one  of  them  I  did  not  like,  and  the  other  had  so 
many  secrets  of  her  own  that  she  had  no  room  for 
mine." 

"  You  do  sound  rather  lonely,"  I  remarked ; 
"  has  it  always  been  like  this  ? " 

"  Not  while  Papa  was  alive ;  at  that  time 
Mamma  was  quite  different.  I  was  always  about 
her,  and  she  used  to  give  me  piano  lessons  herself, 
for  she  played  beautifully  once,  far  better  than  I 
do,  but  she  has  not  played  for  nearly  eleven  years." 

"  Your  poor  mother  must  have  felt  her  loss  ter- 
ribly," I  ventured  to  observe,  for,  indeed,  it  had 
struck  me  that  this  complete  breakdown,  both 
physical  and  mental,  was  scarcely  quite  explained 
even  by  her  widowhood.  Had  she  not  her  chil- 


36  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

dren  to  live  for  ?  I  never  could  spare  much  pa- 
tience for  people  who  indulge  their  grief  at  the 
cost  of  their  duty. 

"  Terribly,"  said  Jadwiga,  very  low.  Her  hands 
rested  in  her  lap  as  she  spoke,  with  the  black  hair 
wound  about  them ;  for  a  moment  or  two  she  re- 
mained quite  still  looking  fixedly  at  the  floor. 

"  If  your  father  has  been  dead  for  ten  years  I 
suppose  Anulka  can  scarcely  remember  him  ?  "  I 
remarked. 

"  She  does  not  remember  him  at  all ;  she  was 
born  after  his  death." 

"  And  you  ?  " 

"  I  remember  him,  oh  yes ;  I  shall  always  re- 
member him."  There  was  a  ring  of  pain  in  the 
words — of  a  pain  that  seemed  mingled  with  fear, 
and  as  she  spoke  she  got  up  from  my  bed. 

"  Miss  Middleton,  I  think  I  am  getting  sleepy 
after  all,"  she  added,  in  a  different  tone.  "  Good- 
bye till  to-morrow."  And  merely  nodding  to  me 
with  a  faint  smile,  she  left  me  alone,  a  little  sur- 
prised at  this  abrupt  termination  of  the  interview, 
and  wondering  whether  I  had  been  in  any  way  in- 
discreet. 


CHAPTER  III 

ON  Sunday,  as  Anulka  had  predicted,  I  had  my 
first  view  of  our  neighbours,  and  also  for  the  first 
time  saw  Madame  Bielinska  outside  her  private 
apartment.  In  broad  daylight  she  looked  even 
more  ghastly  than  I  had  expected ;  these  periodical 
appearances  in  public  were  to  her  obviously  a  phys- 
ical and  mental  torture,  undergone  solely  for  the 
sake  of  satisfying  conventionality,  and  unable  to 
rouse  her  from  her  chronic  apathy.  Dressed  care- 
fully in  her  best  silk,  of  a  fashion  of  a  dozen  years 
back,  and  with  a  new  pair  of  yellow  gloves  on  her 
hands,  she  remained  crushed  into  a  corner  of  the 
big  sofa  or  sat  throned  at  the  head  of  the  long 
table,  taking  no  interest  in  her  guests  and  no  part 
in  the  conversation ;  not  embarrassed,  not  ridicu- 
lous, but  simply  wearied,  only  calling  up  a  tired 
smile  when  addressed,  and  evidently  counting  the 
moments  to  her  deliverance.  On  a  stranger  the 
effect  was  depressing ;  but  the  habitual  visitors 
were  evidently  too  well  used  to  the  neutral  attitude 
of  their  hostess  to  let  the  entertainment  suffer 
thereby,  beyond  punctually  fulfilling  their  fixed 
forms  of  politeness — and  these  forms  are  tolerably 
complicated,  as  it  is  de  rigueur  after  every  meal  for 

37 


38  ONE      YEAR 

every  gentleman  to  kiss  the  hostess's  hand  and 
every  lady  to  shake  it — they  did  not  trouble  them- 
selves further  about  her.  They  all  knew  that  she 
wanted  to  be  let  alone.  That  poor,  weary  hand 
was  kissed  pretty  often  of  a  Sunday,  for  the  guests 
were  numerous  and  the  meals  frequent.  A  visit 
paid  in  the  country  in  Poland  often  begins  at 
breakfast-time  and  never  ends  till  after  supper.  By 
one  o'clock  the  big,  bare  Ludniki  drawing-room 
was  quite  tolerably  peopled,  chiefly  by  the  stronger 
sex — that  little  wretch  of  an  Anulka  had  been  right 
about  the  news  of  Jadwiga's  return  having  spread 
— and  we  sat  down  to  dinner,  not  much  under 
twenty  head  high.  In  one  of  my  early  letters  to 
Agnes  I  find  my  first  impressions  of  these  people 
put  down. 

"  Perhaps  the  most  curious  specimen  in  the  col- 
lection," I  wrote  to  her  on  that  occasion,  "  was  a 
large,  elderly,  gentlemanlike  barbarian  in  the  Polish 
national  dress,  who  smelt  frightfully  of  strong  to- 
bacco, and  ought  never  to  move  without  a  spittoon 
at  his  elbow,  but  who  makes  so  splendid  a  picture, 
and  has  so  completely  the  grand  air,  that  it  is  im- 
possible quite  to  disapprove  of  anything  he  does. 
His  name  is  written  Lewicki,  I  believe,  and  he  is  a 
near  neighbour  and  large  landed  proprietor.  He 
had  his  son  with  him — the  nearest  approach  to  my 
idea  of  a  fairy-tale  prince  that  has  ever  come  my 
way ;  long,  slender  limbs,  a  beardless  boy's  face,  a 


ONE      YEAR  39 

particularly  delicate  curve  of  jaw,  a  marvellous  line 
of  throat,  long-cut  brown  eyes,  ready  either  to  melt 
or  to  kindle,  as  occasion  demanded — you  know  the 
sort  of  thing,  don't  you  ?  Often  enough  seen  in 
print  but  hardly  ever  in  flesh  and  blood.  There  is 
just  enough  curl  in  his  silky,  yellow  hair  to  make 
his  head  at  a  little  distance  look  as  though  it  were 
moulded  out  of  solid  gold.  Seriously  he  seems  to 
me  to  be  about  as  good  looking  as  a  man  can  be 
out  of  a  story-book,  and  also  to  be  quite  aware  of 
his  good  looks  and  fond  of  displaying  them  to  the 
best  advantage.  I  should  not  call  it  affectation — 
it  is  too  naif  and  straightforward  for  that — but 
rather  a  childishly  frank  pleasure  in  what  he  knows 
himself  to  possess. 

"  Of  the  other  young  men  present  the  one  with 
whom  I  had  most  conversation  was  a  dark,  regular- 
featured  man  of  somewhere  about  thirty,  who  prob- 
ably would  likewise  be  good  looking  if  he  were  not 
quite  too  unreasonably  thin,  with  a  nose  that  posi- 
tively looks  as  though  it  were  coming  through  the 
skin,  and  a  perpetual  blotch  of  shadow  under  the 
cheek-bones.  This,  too,  is  a  neighbour,  it  seems, 
although  not  in  such  good  circumstances,  as,  in- 
deed, his  very  clothes  testify.  I  don't  think  I 
have  ever  seen  within  polite  walls  a  black  coat  so 
perilously  near  to  the  border  of  the  inadmissible. 
Among  the  further  guests  I  must  not  forget  to  note 
down  the  doctor  and  his  wife,  inhabitants  of  Zloc- 


40  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

zek,  our  post-town,  and  a  queerly  assorted  couple 
— he  ponderous  and  elderly,  with  a  shock-head  of 
grey  hair  and  a  face  that  seems  to  consist  of  a 
series  of  lumps  ;  she  at  least  twenty  years  younger 
and  almost  as  pretty  as  her  husband  is  ugly — dark- 
eyed,  bright  complexioned,  lively,  and  neat  as  a 
bird — dressy,  talkative,  almost  obtrusively  oblig- 
ing, and — I  should  guess — frankly  frivolous — too 
frankly  in  fact,  for  it  is  embarrassing  to  have  to 
listen  to  denunciations  of  the  sort  of: — '  I  can't 
manage  to  be  serious  like  other  people ' — *  I  don't 
pretend  to  care  for  anything  except  amusement,' 
and  difficult  to  know  what  to  answer.  It  was  all  I 
could  do  to  defend  myself  from  her  proffered  offers 
of  service,  for  the  little  woman  seemed  to  take  a 
fancy  to  my  society,  or  perhaps  was  only  curious 
to  see  what  a  real  Englishwoman  was  like  at  close 
quarters.  With  clasped  hands  she  implored  me  to 
let  her  do  all  my  shopping  for  me  at  Zloczek,  in- 
forming me  in  the  same  breath  that  nothing  decent 
was  to  be  got  there  for  love  or  money  ;  if  I  wanted 
either  letter  paper  or  elastic  for  my  hats  I  had  only 
to  drop  her  a  note  and  she  would  immediately  aban- 
don all  other  occupations  to  fulfil  my  wishes. 
When  told  I  was  provided  with  both  letter  paper 
and  elastic  she  appeared  inconsolable.  But,  per- 
haps, I  had  a  desire  for  thread  and  needles  ?  No  ? 
Was  there  absolutely  nothing  that  she  could  get  for 
me ;  or  do  for  me  ?  Well,  then,  at  least  I  must 


ONE      YEAR  41 

promise  to  come  and  see  her,  and  let  her  show  me 
her  children.  It  sounds  too  spasmodic  to  be  genu- 
ine, but  it  is  genuine  all  the  same.  Very  likely  she 
would  forget  all  about  the  elastic  if  I  did  ask  her  to 
procure  me  some,  and  would  send  me  quite  the 
wrong  number  of  thread,  but  that  does  not  alter  the 
kindness  of  the  intention.  Many  of  them  are  like 
that ;  it  is  their  way  of  making  one  feel  at  home." 

There  are  more  portraits  sketched  in  this  same 
letter,  but  I  have  picked  out  only  those  of  persons 
who  afterward  came  to  play  at  least  some  slight 
part  in  the  story  I  am  telling ;  the  other — 
principally  smooth-faced  young  men,  with  won- 
derfully cut  finger  nails  and  rather  too  exquisite 
manners,  accompanied  here  and  there  by  a  sister 
or  a  mother — never  came  to  act  as  more  than 
chorus. 

Despite  this  wide  selection  of  youths,  despite 
the  fact  that  each  of  them  tried  to  secure  the 
place  beside  Jadwiga,  it  did  not  take  me  long  to 
pick  out  the  two  most  serious  candidates  for  her 
favour — those  referred  to  by  Anulka  on  the  very 
day  of  my  arrival.  That  one  of  them  was  the  fair- 
haired,  fairy-tale  prince  I  had  early  suspected — 
those  melting  brown  eyes  of  his  were  too  tell-tale 
in  their  expression — but  whether  or  not  his  rival 
was  present  it  took  me  a  little  time  to  ascertain. 
It  was  not  until  we  had  risen  from  table,  and  the 
customary  salutations  were  going  on,  that  my  at- 


42  ONE      YEAR 

tention  was  directed  to  the  gaunt,  shabbily-dressed 
man  aforementioned.  His  turn  had  come  to  kiss 
Jadwiga's  hand — the  last  of  the  row  of  black  coats 
filing  off  toward  the  drawing-room.  By  chance  I 
was  looking  in  that  direction,  and  saw  how  in  the 
moment  of  raising  her  hand  he  quietly  and  deliber- 
ately put  back  the  edge  of  the  glove  into  which  she 
had  already  slipped  her  fingers,  and  then  only  pro- 
ceeded to  imprint  upon  her  bare  wrist  the  custom- 
ary salute.  Done  clumsily  the  thing  would  have 
been  an  impertinence,  but  the  sort  of  respectful 
audacity  of  the  gesture  saved  it  even  in  Jadwiga's 
eyes,  though  she  coloured  faintly  and  attempted  to 
frown.  The  delicate  French  kid  of  her  pearl-grey 
glove  was  unimpeachable,  and  yet  it  was  evidently 
not  to  his  taste.  Just  then  I  remembered  that  this 
dark,  thin  man,  my  opposite  at  table,  had  eaten  his 
dinner  almost  silently,  and  that  his  eyes  had  often 
strayed  toward  where  Jadwiga  sat  with  the  fair- 
haired  youth  beside  her.  From  that  moment  I  be- 
gan to  observe  him  more  carefully.  The  interest 
I  already  felt  in  Jadwiga  naturally  awoke  an  inter- 
est in  her  possible  wooers. 

In  the  big  drawing-room  the  card  tables  stood 
ready — a  strange  sight  to  my  English  eyes  by 
broad  daylight  and  on  a  Sunday,  but  to  every  one 
else  quite  natural,  almost  inevitable.  While  black 
coffee  was  being  drunk  the  old  gentlemen  began  to 
recruit  for  their  sets,  and  without  much  difficulty 


ONE      YEAR  43 

either,  for  young  men  in  this  country  love  tarac 
and  cigarettes  almost  as  much  as  flirtation  and 
cigarettes.  By  this  time  nearly  every  man  in  the 
room  and  several  of  the  ladies  were  rolling  one  of 
the  latter  between  their  fingers.  About  the  only 
man  not  doing  so  was  my  vis-a-vis  at  dinner, 
whose  name  I  presently  learnt  to  be  Krysztof 
Malewicz.  I  was  close  to  where  he  stood,  unoc- 
cupied, with  his  back  against  the  wall  when  Jad- 
wiga,  in  her  character  of  quasi  hostess,  intent  on 
seeing  every  one  disposed  according,  to  his  inclina- 
tions, came  flitting  toward  us. 

"  Oh,  Krysztof,"  she  said,  eagerly,  "  would  you 
not  take  a  hand  at  Pan  Barnowski's  table  ?  They 
are  short  of  a  player  over  there." 

"  I  never  play  cards,"  replied  Malewicz  with  a 
touch  of  haughty  surprise ;  "  surely  you  know 
that  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  know;  but  just  for  to-day  perhaps?" 
she  persisted. 

"  It  is  quite  impossible,"  he  said,  a  little 
brusquely. 

"  Even  if  I  ask  you  ?  "  And  I  must  confess 
that  as  she  said  it  she  put  a  not  quite  legitimate 
amount  of  pressure  into  her  eyes,  for  even  the 
truest  and  least  frivolous  Polish  woman  has  at  least 
one  grain  of  the  coquette  in  her  composition. 

I  could  see  him  thrill,  but,  although  his  mouth 
contracted,  he  answered  without  hesitation  :  "  Even 


44  ONE      YEAR 

if  you  asked  me,"  and  he  looked  at  her  very  stead- 
ily, and,  as  it  seemed  to  me,  sadly,  as  he  spoke. 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders  impatiently  and  was 
gone,  but  after  two  minutes  was  back  again. 

"  I  have  found  somebody — you  are  let  off  for  to- 
day— but  since  you  are  not  going  to  play  cards, 
what  are  you  going  to  do  ?  "  I  must  explain  here 
that  a  Polish  hostess  has  the  terrible  habit  of 
never  leaving  her  guests  to  their  own  devices. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  ?  "  returned  Male- 
wicz  with  his  keen,  dark  eyes  upon  her  face. 

"  I  am  going  to  play  presently.  Wladimir  has 
brought  me  that  Mazurka  he  raves  about.  You 
can  listen  if  you  have  nothing  better  to  do,  but,  by 
the  bye,  you  don't  care  for  music,  I  think  ?  " 

"  I  never  said  I  did  not  care  for  music,"  he  re- 
plied with  almost  unnecessary  deliberateness,  "  but 
only  that  I  range  music  among  the  luxuries,  not 
the  necessities  of  life." 

"  Well,  Sunday  is  a  day  for  luxuries,  is  it 
not  ?  "  she  lightly  retorted.  "  You  really  might 
do  worse  than  listen." 

"  Is  Wladimir  going  to  listen,  too  ?  "  he  asked 
without  moving  a  muscle  of  his  face. 

u  Of  course,  since  it  was  he  who  brought  me  the 
music.  Has  he  not  the  first  right  to  hear  it  ?  " 

"  Then  I  think  I  shall  listen  another  time — 
some  day  perhaps  when  you  think  that  /  have  a 
right  to  hear  it." 


O  N  E      Y  E  A  R  45 

Jauwiga  looked  a  trifle  put  out,  I  thought. 

44  As  you  like,"  she  said,  turning  from  him, 
44  you  seem  in  a  difficult  humour  to  suit  to-day  ;  I 
am  not  going  to  make  any  more  suggestions  for 
your  benefit.  And  you,  Miss  Middleton,  how  are 
you  going  to  amuse  yourself?  " 

I  begged  to  be  allowed  to  look  after  myself, 
being  just  on  the  point  of  slipping  away  for  a  walk. 
Even  the  Mazurka  could  not  keep  me  indoors  on 
such  an  afternoon  as  this ;  I  knew  that  I  should 
hear  it  another  time  and  under  more  favourable 
circumstances. 

41  May  I  walk  with  you  ?  "  said  my  neighbour 
abruptly. 

Much  though  I  should  have  preferred  solitude 
there  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  say  Yes,  and  pres- 
ently, while  the  cards  began  to  fall  on  the  tables 
and  the  cigarette  smoke  to  curl  up  to  the  ceiling 
and  the  first  notes  of  the  Mazurka  to  float  out  of 
the  windows,  I  walked  out  into  the  autumn  sun- 
shine tete-a-tete  with  this  stranger  whose  name  I 
had  not  yet  mastered,  and  who  already  was  begin- 
ning to  interest  me  by  proxy,  so  to  say. 

It  was  a  long,  straight  walk  we  struck  into,  the 
longest  and  the  straightest  in  the  whole  park,  the 
only  one  which  seemed  to  give  it  a  sort  of  moral 
backbone ;  anywhere  else  it  would  have  led  to  a 
summerhouse,  here  it  led  to  nowhere  in  particular. 
To  judge  by  the  profusion  of  scarlet  hips  branch- 


46  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

ing  like  coral  on  both  sides  of  the  way,  there  must 
be  a  fine  show  of  roses  here  in  summer.  I  had 
already  adopted  this  rose-walk  for  my  constitu- 
tionals, allured  by  its  privacy  as  well  as  its  com- 
parative evenness. 

To  my  relief  I  soon  perceived  that  my  com- 
panion did  not  think  it  necessary  to  entertain  me. 
Just  at  first,  in  fact,  he  seemed  to  have  forgotten 
my  existence  ;  with  his  hands  behind  his  back  and 
his  eyes  fixed  abstractedly  on  the  ground  he  moved 
along  by  my  side  as  though  I  had  not  been.  We 
were  half  way  down  the  rose-walk  before  he 
remarked  unexpectedly  : — 

"You  must  have  thought  me  very  ungracious 
just  now  ?  " 

"  About  the  music  ?  "  I  said.  "  Well,  so  was  I, 
if  it  comes  to  that ;  but  I  never  find  that  music  and 
society  agree." 

"  No,  not  about  the  music,  about  the  cards. 
Do  you  think  I  was  rude  to  Mademoiselle 
Bielinska  ?  " 

I  hesitated.  "Not  rude,  perhaps,  but  rather 
more  categorical  than  the  occasion  demanded. 
You  spoke  as  though  you  had  a  positive  dislike  to 
cards." 

"  So  I  have,  and  with  good  reason,  too.  My 
father  lost  his  fortune  at  cards,"  he  added  with 
a  simplicity  which,  to  my  ideas,  was  a  little  start- 
ling. 


O  N  E      Y  E  A  R  47 

"  Does  Jadwiga  know  of  this  ?  "  I  asked,  after  a 
moment. 

"  Every  one  knows  it.  Many  is  the  night  that 
her  father  and  mine  have  spent  with  a  green  table 
between  them.  Ask  Pan  Lewicki,  Wladimir's 
father,  he  knows  it  better  than  anybody,  since  he 
is  the  only  one  of  that  gay  trio  remaining — the 
trots  mousquetaires,  as  they  used  to  call  them  in 
Paris  long  ago.  Oh,  yes,  of  course  she  knows  it ; 
but  you  must  not  imagine  her  unkind  because  of 
having  asked  me,"  he  added,  quickly,  "  she  is  only 
thoughtless  and  young — oh,  ever  so  much  younger 
than  I  am  !  " 

By  the  ring  in  his  voice  I  felt  certain  from  that 
moment  not  only  that  he  was  seeking  Jadwiga,  but 
also  that  he  loved  her,  and  with  this  conviction  in 
my  mind  I  gave  him  another  and  more  critical 
side-glance.  He  was  exaggeratedly  thin,  certainly, 
but  it  was  a  thinness  which  did  not  give  the 
impression  of  ill-health — rather  of  extreme  wiriness 
and  toughness  of  fibre.  The  eyes  were  black  and 
keen,  rather  deep-set,  with  a  flame  ready  to  spring 
to  the  surface  each  moment,  the  forehead  well 
moulded,  the  whole  face  eager  and  strong.  Per- 
haps he  was  a  little  too  tall  for  the  breadth  of  his 
shoulders,  but  he  held  himself  well.  Such  as  he 
was  I  could  see  no  reason  why  Jadwiga  should  not 
love  him,  and  already,  unconsciously,  I  was  begin- 
ning to  hope  that  she  would. 


48  ONEYEAR 

"You  don't  seem  to  be  so  very  old  yet,"  I  could 
not  help  observing  in  answer  to  his  last  remark. 
He  did  not  seem  to  me  to  be  more  than  thirty  at 
the  outside. 

"  Do  you  count  age  by  years  ?  "  he  replied,  "  or 
not  rather  by  what  those  years  have  been  full  of, 
whether  of  joy  or  pain,  play  or  work  ?  I  have 
played  very  little  in  my  life ;  perhaps  that  is  why  I 
sometimes  think  that  I  have  never  been  young. 
No,  I  could  not  have  done  what  she  wanted  of 
me,"  he  went  on  in  the  same  breath,  "  but  I  wish 
I  could  teach  myself  to  be  smoother  in  my  refusals. 
Roughness  is  not  generally  the  fault  of  my  nation ; 
I  think  I  must  have  picked  it  up  in  the  fields  among 
the  workmen." 

I  believe  it  was  this  very  roughness  which,  in 
the  midst  of  so  much  smoothness,  had  awakened 
my  sympathies  from  the  first,  by  its  distant 
resemblance  to  British  bluntness;  but  I  could 
scarcely  tell  him  so,  and  presently  the  talk — such 
desultory  talk  as  we  carried  on — had  drifted  into 
other  and  less  personal  channels.  It  was  only  at 
the  end  of  our  stroll,  when  we  were  close  to  the 
house  again,  that  there  passed  some  more  words 
which  I  can  still  recall. 

"  Your  nation  may  be  both  musical  and  artistic," 
I  could  not  help  remarking,  as  we  approached  the 
oddly-placed  entrance,  "but  it  certainly  has  no 
passion  for  symmetry.  What,  for  instance,  could 


ONE      YEAR  49 

have  induced  the  person  who  built  this  house  to  stick 
the  front  door  into  such  an  improbable  place  ?  Why 
on  earth  should  it  not  stand  in  the  middle  ?  It  is 
its  only  legitimate  place  in  a  building  of  this  style." 

"  The  person  who  built  the  house  is  not  respon- 
sible," replied  my  companion.  "  The  entrance 
used  to  be  in  the  middle.  Have  you  not  noticed 
the  old  door  walled  up — over  there  between  the 
two  centre  windows  ?  " 

I  certainly  had  observed  a  large  patch  in  the 
masonry,  whose  colour  betrayed  it  as  if  of  a  differ- 
ent date  from  the  rest  of  the  surface.  "  And  that 
was  the  entrance  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Yes,  I  never  alighted  at  any  other  door  when  I 
was  a  child.  You  can  still  trace  the  bit  of  road 
that  led  up  to  it,  although  the  grass  has  grown 
thick  there  now." 

"  And  what  made  them  change  it  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  It  was  walled  up  after  Pan  Bielinski's  death," 
said  Malewicz,  a  trifle  curtly.  "  Probably  the 
family  did  not  care  to  use  it  again." 

This  struck  me  as  curious,  but  Malewicz  was 
evidently  not  inclined  to  say  more,  and,  besides,  we 
had  reached  the  house  already. 

By  this  time  the  big  drawing-room  was  dim  and 
blue  with  the  smoke  of  innumerable  cigarettes,  and 
the  tables  laden  with  trays  of  glasses,  and  crystal 
dishes  on  which  marvellous  cakes  and  extraordinary 
jams  lay  temptingly  displayed,  while  somewhere  in 


50  ONE      YEAR 

the  corner  a  big  samovar  was  puffing  audibly. 
The  cards  still  fell  regularly  on  the  green  tables, 
but  Jadwiga  had  left  the  piano,  and,  surrounded 
by  a  small  group  of  admirers,  was  holding  what 
seemed  to  be  an  animated  discussion. 

"  Oh,  do  come  here,  Miss  Middleton,"  she 
cried,  catching  sight  of  us,  "  and  listen  to  my  plan, 
and  you,  too,  Pan  Malewicz.  I  want  to  arrange 
a  fishing  party  this  week.  This  is  the  year  for  the 
big  pond  to  be  cleaned,  you  know,  and  there  will 
be  lots  of  fish.  It  is  as  good  as  a  play  to  see  the 
peasants  driving  them  into  the  nets — we  can  follow 
them  in  a  boat.  You  will  be  of  the  party,  too, 
will  you  not,  Pan  Malewicz  ?  The  more  people 
there  are  the  merrier  it  will  be." 

"  Which  day  have  you  arranged  ?  "  asked  Male- 
wicz. 

"Wednesday." 

"  I  shall  not  have  got  my  turnips  all  in  by 
Wednesday,"  said  he  after  a  moment's  reflection. 

"  As  if  it  was  possible  to  think  of  turnips  when 
a  wish  of  Mademoiselle  Bielinska  falls  into  the 
balance !  "  cried  the  golden-haired  Wladimir,  in 
evidently  sincere  indignation.  "  Why,  I  would 
abandon  a  whole  corn  harvest  rather  than  disap- 
point her." 

"The  question  is,  whether  the  corn  harvest 
would  suffer  greatly  by  your  absence,"  remarked 
Malewicz  without  looking  at  his  interlocutor. 


ONE      YEAR  51 

41  Really,"  said  Jadwiga,  half  laughing  and  half 
provoked,  "  it  is  evidently  wasted  trouble  to  ask 
anything  from  you  to-day.  You  have  said  c  No  ' 
to  me  twice  to-day,  and  this  is  evidently  going  to 
be  the  third  time " 

"  Never  mind  the  ungrateful  man,"  put  in 
Wladimir  eagerly.  "  Leave  him  to  his  turnips  and 
his  fate,  and  let  us  keep  the  fishing  all  to  our- 
selves." 

"  No,  this  is  not  going  to  be  the  third  time," 
said  Malewicz  quickly.  "  You  are  right  about  my 
having  been  very  rude  to-day.  I  don't  usually  take 
a  holiday  during  the  week,  but  I  shall  do  so  this 
week  in  order  to  make  amends.  At  what  hour  am 
I  to  be  at  the  pond,  Pani  Bielinska  ?  " 

"That  is  good  of  you,"  said  Jadwiga  with  a 
frank  gratitude,  and  such  a  glance  as  would  have 
unsettled  most  men's  heads,  and  impulsively  she 
gave  him  her  hand  which  he  carried  to  his  lips,  and 
kept  there  a  moment  longer  than  was  absolutely 
necessary. 

Instinctively  I  looked  at  my  fairy-tale  prince, 
and  saw  in  his  smooth  face  a  shadow  of  annoy- 
ance as  well  as  of  almost  childish  surprise. 


CHAPTER  IV 

IT  is  difficult  for  me  to  say  when  exactly  I  be- 
gan to  suspect  that  there  must  have  been  some- 
thing unusual  about  Mr.  Bielinski's  death,  some 
circumstance  connected  with  it  that  seemed  to 
make  the  family  and  even  their  acquaintances  shy 
of  speaking  of  it,  and  the  memory  of  which  hung 
over  the  house  like  a  shadow.  I  think,  however, 
that  my  suspicions  must  have  come  early,  for  al- 
ready before  the  end  of  October  I  find  myself 
writing  thus  to  Agnes  : — 

"  I  cannot  explain  to  you  why  it  is,  but  I  have 
lately  begun  to  scent  an  element  of  mystery  in  the 
family  atmosphere,  and  at  a  guess  I  should  say  that 
the  mystery  points  to  the  defunct  Mr.  Bielinski. 
Many  circumstances  lead  me  to  this  conclusion  : 
the  reserve  of  the  usually  so  unreserved  Jadwiga 
concerning  her  father ;  that  walled-up  entrance — 
used  apparently  for  the  last  time  at  his  funeral ;  an 
unoccupied  room  which  goes  by  the  name  of  the 
c  master's  room,'  and  which  I  have  noticed  that 
the  servants  avoid  entering  after  dark ;  above  all, 
that  stricken  woman  shut  up  from  the  light  of  day, 
and  who,  as  I  am  told,  was  gay  and  lively  until  the 
day  of  her  widowhood.  Surely  that  man  cannot 

5* 


ONE      YEAR  53 

have  died  quietly  in  his  bed,  but  rather  in  some 
exceptional  way,  the  impression  of  which  has  re- 
mained with  his  family  until  now.  All  that  I  have 
learnt  is  that  he  was  a  gambler  in  his  youth ;  but 
in  a  country  where  every  second  man  is  a  gambler 
this  scarcely  even  calls  for  remark,  and  his  fortune, 
at  any  rate,  does  not  seem  to  have  suffered  from 
those  early  excesses.  In  the  room  I  spoke  of  there 
hangs  his  portrait  beside  that  of  Madame  Bielinska, 
both  taken  at  the  time  of  their  marriage.  It  is 
from  him,  evidently,  that  Jadwiga  takes  her 
looks,  not  from  her  mother — a  splendily  moulded, 
but  with  far  too  soft  curves  for  a  man,  with  his 
daughter's  eyes,  yet  without  her  straightness  of 
gaze,  and  a  mouth  that  lacks  strength.  The  of- 
tener  I  look  at  the  portrait  the  more  so  I  wonder 
what  his  history  can  have  been,  and  yet  I  do  not 
well  see  whom  I  could  ask." 

Just  about  the  time  of  the  writing  of  this  letter 
my  suspicions  received  new  food.  This  was  on 
the  day  of  the  fishing  party.  On  that  day,  too — 
memorable  to  me  in  various  ways — Anulka  gave 
us  all  a  fine  fright ;  but  before  I  come  to  the  results 
of  the  fishing  I  have  something  to  say  of  the  fish- 
ing itself.  This  afternoon  it  was  which  brought 
me  into  better  acquaintance  with  the  fair-haired, 
fair-faced  Wladimir,  whom  at  our  first  meeting  I 
had  only  admired  at  a  distance,  as  one  admires  a 
picture.  The  closer  view  I  had  that  day  of  him 


54  ONE      YEAR 

was  calculated  only  to  heighten  the  favourable  im- 
pression already  received. 

I  was  standing  almost  solitary  on  the  broad,  flat 
bank  which  ran  round  the  pond  when  Wladimir 
first  approached  me.  It  was  at  the  further  side  of 
the  village,  whose  straw-thatched  hovels  crawled 
up  to  the  gates  of  Ludniki  and  whose  wide,  mud- 
paved,  swine-encumbered  street  had  to  be  traversed 
each  time  you  desired  to  walk  outside  the  park, 
that  lay  the  pond — a  small  lake  we  would  have 
called  it  at  home — about  two  acres  in  extent,  I 
should  say,  almost  square,  obviously  artificial,  and 
fed  by  a  sluice  from  the  neighbouring  stream.  It 
formed  part  of  the  Ludniki  property,  but  was  let 
to  a  Jew,  as  Jadwiga  explained  to  me,  and  once  in 
three  years  was  run  dry  in  order  to  be  cleared  of 
all  fish  beyond  a  given  size.  This  was  the  event- 
ful year,  and  consequently  the  whole  interest  of  the 
village  was  centred  round  the  staw  (pond).  On 
this  Wednesday  afternoon  its  low  banks  were 
thickly  studded  with  groups  of  shaggy,  flaxen- 
haired,  scantily-covered  children,  together  with 
their  sheepskin-coated  elders,  all  intent  on  at  least 
shouting  out  directions,  even  if  not  called  upon  to 
take  an  active  part  in  the  sport.  The  pond  itself 
was  more  of  a  curious  than  a  beautiful  sight  to- 
day, for  all  but  the  last  and  muddiest  two  feet  of 
water  had  been  run  off,  and  on  the  slippery  floor 
of  this  dingy  fluid  men  and  women  were  staggering 


ONE      YEAR  55 

about  bare-legged,  dragging  their  heavy  nets  behind 
them,  and  slipping  each  fish  secured  into  the  sack 
slung  round  their  necks.  Sometimes  a  larger 
net,  held  by  the  occupants  of  two  flat-bottomed 
boats,  was  slowly  swept  toward  some  particular 
point,  from  where  a  long  line  of  peasants,  destined 
to  cut  off  the  retreat  of  the  fish,  advanced  amid 
wild  shouts  and  much  throwing  of  stones.  All 
these  people  were  in  the  service  of  the  Jew  farm- 
ing the  pond,  and  who  now  moved  about  the  bank 
from  point  to  point,  a  restless  black  figure  which 
seemed  to  want  to  be  everywhere  at  a  time,  and 
with  uneasy  eyes  that  attempted  to  keep  note  of 
every  fish  slipped  into  every  sack,  for  fear  of  being 
cheated  of  even  one. 

Jadwiga  and  Anulka  with  Madame  Kouska,  the 
doctor's  wife,  had  entered  a  boat  in  order  to  ob- 
serve the  sport  more  closely,  and  several  of  the 
young  men  were  preparing  to  follow  in  a  second 
boat.  Left  to  my  own  society  I  was  just  about  to 
take  my  place  on  a  stem  of  one  of  the  old  willows 
with  which  the  bank  was  planted  at  regular  inter- 
vals, and  one  of  which  had  stooped  so  low  just 
here  that  it  appeared  to  be  almost  crawling  on  the 
earth,  when  Wladimir,  who  was  in  the  second  boat, 
perceived  me,  and  springing  to  the  shore,  came  run- 
ning up  the  bank. 

"Oh,  Miss — Miss — I  am  afraid  I  have  forgot- 
ten your  name,"  he  said,  with  a  most  engaging 


56  ONE      YEAR 

smile,  u  but  surely  you  are  not  going  to  remain 
here  all  by  yourself?  That  would  be  too  dread- 
fully dull  for  you  !  " 

He  looked  so  genuinely  distressed  that  I  almost 
laughed  in  his  face.  How  could  he  know  that 
some  people  are  conceited  enough  not  to  find  their 
own  company  dull  ? 

"  There  seems  no  help,"  I  said,  "  since  the  boats 
are  full." 

"Will  you  not  take  my  place?"  he  asked 
earnestly. 

"  And  leave  you  alone  on  the  bank  ?  Certainly 
not ;  why  you  have  just  said  that  it  would  be  ter- 
ribly dull.  You  had  better  make  haste  and  re- 
gain your  place;  your  friends  are  just  pushing 
off." 

He  looked  after  the  departing  boats,  then  turned 
back  resolutely  toward  me. 

"  Since  there  is  not  room  for  both  of  us  I  shall 
stay  here.  It  would  spoil  all  my  pleasure  to  think 
of  you  sitting  all  alone  on  this  rotten  old  willow." 

I  looked  at  him  incredulously,  and  saw,  to  my 
surprise,  that  he  actually  meant  what  he  said. 
From  what  I  learnt  to  know  of  him  later  I  really 
do  believe  that  his  pleasure  would  have  suffered 
considerably  from  the  knowledge  that  some  one 
was  feeling  dull  on  the  bank.  There  is  a  certain 
sort  of  people — and  they  are  always  most  intrin- 
sically lovable  people — who  cannot  enjoy  them- 


ONE      YEAR  57 

selves  properly  unless  they  know  that  every  one 
else  is  doing  the  same. 

"  If  there  was  no  room  for  you  in  the  boat  at 
least  there  is  for  me  on  this  trunk,"  he  said  gaily, 
and  without  further  leave  took  his  place  at  my 
side.  It  was  done  with  such  boyish  grace,  and  the 
whole  act  was  in  itself  so  graceful  and  so  kindly 
meant,  that  I  do  not  deny  having  felt  touched. 
That  a  young  man,  in  an  advanced  stage  of  the 
tender  passion,  and  with  the  object  of  his  devotion 
present,  should  find  time  to  look  after  a  plain-faced, 
elderly  stranger,  and  this  a  governess,  was,  indeed, 
unusual.  Truly  the  fairy-tale  prince  kept  up  his 
character  in  his  acts  as  well  as  his  looks ;  this  was 
exactly  the  sort  of  youth  who  would  alight  in  order 
to  give  a  lift  to  the  inevitable  old  hag,  or  would 
stop  to  bind  up  the  sick  wolf's  paw,  or  to  let  the 
mouse  out  of  the  trap.  True,  in  the  fairy  tales, 
the  young  man  never  fails  to  reap  his  reward  in 
the  shape  either  of  a  beautiful  princess  or  of  a 
golden  castle  built  over-night,  but  what  reward 
could  Wladimir  ever  hope  to  get  from  me  ? 

And  yet  though  he  had  expected  both  the  castle 
and  the  princess  he  could  not  have  been  more 
assiduous  than  he  showed  himself  during  the  next 
hour.  A  wistful  glance  in  the  direction  of  the  dis- 
tant boats,  a  momentary  cloud  of  anxiety  on  his 
fair  forehead  when  some  especially  clear  peal  of 
laughter  came  to  us  across  the  water  was  all  that 


58  ONEYEAR 

showed  his  occasionally  wavering  attention.  Why 
he  should  desire  to  win  my  sympathy  I  could  not 
possibly  imagine,  yet  the  symptoms  seemed  to  point 
that  way.  On  Sunday  he  had  presumably  not  dis- 
covered me  yet,  or  had  been  too  much  engrossed 
by  the  reappearance  of  Jadwiga  to  have  quite  real- 
ised who  I  was ;  but  to-day  he  had  apparently 
singled  me  out,  perhaps  only  from  the  same  spirit 
of  overflowing  hospitality  which  had  moved  Ma- 
dame Kouska  to  charge  herself  with  my  shopping. 

"You  must  find  our  customs  very  barbarous," 
he  said  once  with  a  sigh,  as  the  yells  of  the  bare- 
legged peasants  rose  in  a  fresh  chorus,  for  it  be- 
longed to  the  principle  of  the  thing  to  make  as 
much  noise  as  possible.  I  could  see  that  he  was 
watching  me  anxiously,  as  though  to  observe  the 
effect  of  the  somewhat  uncouth  exhibition  on  a 
stranger. 

"  Picturesquely  barbarous,"  I  replied. 

"  But  still,  barbarous,"  he  persisted,  evidently 
dissatisfied.  "Tell  me,  do  such  exhibitions  make 
you  think  worse  of  the  nation  which  tolerates  them  ? " 
^"  Really  !  "  I  said,  amused  at  his  over-great  earn- 
estness, "  I  have  not  considered  that  point  seriously 
yet.  Your  nation  is  altogether  so  puzzling  and 
so — well  so  inconsistent  in  its  qualities  that  I  have 
not  come  to  any  conclusion  about  it  yet." 

He  moved  a  little  nearer  to  me  on  our  rustic 
seat,  his  interest  evidently  aroused. 


ONE      YEAR  59 

"  Tell  me,  now  ;  in  what  ways  ?  How  do  you 
find  us  inconsistent  ?  What  qualities  do  you  grant 
us,  and  which  deny  ?  " 

"  Order,  to  begin  with,  and  method,  which  really 
means  steadiness  and  perseverance,  while  courage 
and  chivalry  you  have  in  far  greater  proportion 
than  even  most  brave  and  chivalrous  nations." 

Wladimir's  eyes  shone  at  my  words. 

"  They  are  noble  qualities  which  you  accord  us, 
nobler  than  those  you  deny." 

"  But  not  always  so  useful  in  the  history  of  a 
people." 

"  Courage  and  chivalry,"  he  repeated,  as  though 
taking  pleasure  in  the  sound  of  the  words ;  "  then 
you  admit  that  we  can  be  loyal  ?  " 

u  Indeed  I  do,  and  generously  kind ;  to  the 
stranger  above  all,"  I  said  with  perhaps  a  little 
emotion  in  my  voice,  for  nothing  had  touched  me 
so  much  as  the  warm  reception  on  all  sides. 

"  You  are  thanking  me  for  having  stayed  beside 
you,"  said  Wladimir,  in  a  burst  of  delight,  "  please 
believe  that  it  was  a  pleasure."  And  to  my  con- 
sternation he  took  hold  of  my  hand  and  fervently 
kissed  it. 

I  had  not  been  thinking  more  specially  of  this 
instance  of  kindness  than  of  many  others,  but  in 
face  of  the  boy's  artless  conviction  it  was  impos- 
sible to  disclaim. 

"  If  you  were  as  steady  as  you  are  hospitable,  as 


60  ONE      YEAR 

robust  and  vigorous  as  you  are  generous/'  I  re- 
marked, partly  as  a  means  of  damping  his  enthu- 
siasm, for  I  did  not  care  to  have  him  any  nearer  to 
me  on  the  willow  stem,  "  then  your  nation  would 
never  have  failed." 

"  You  find  us  effeminate  ?  "  he  asked,  with  an 
instant  return  of  anxiety. 

"  I  should  not  say  that — a  people  which  has 
died  in  heaps  on  battlefields  can  never  be  called 
effeminate,  but  you  seem  to  keep  all  your  moral 
energy  for  extraordinary  occasions,  and  to  lock  it 
away  carefully  in  every-day  life — that  is  what 
makes  you  so  puzzling.  Even  your  clothes  and 
your  boots  proclaim  the  difference  between  Poles 
and  Englishmen  ;  yours  are  so  obviously  calculated 
for  drawing-rooms,  ours  for  muddy  roads  and 
thorns  and  heather.  Take,  for  instance,  the  ques- 
tion of  galoshes ;  I  must  honestly  confess  that  I 
had  never  even  seen  a  man  under  sixty  in  galoshes 
until  I  came  here." 

"  But  what  do  they  do  when  the  weather  is 
wet  ? "  asked  Wladimir  with  charming  naivete, 
looking  down  reflectively  on  his  own  faultless  pat- 
ent leather  shoes. 

"  They  get  their  feet  wet,"  I  gravely  replied. 

"  And  do  you  find  it  ridiculous  for  a  man  to 
keep  his  feet  dry  ?  " 

"  Ridiculous  ?  No.  Nothing  is  really  ridiculous 
except  to  the  narrow-minded.  It  all  depends  on 


ONE      YEAR  61 

the  point  of  view.  I  only  meant  that  the  idea  is 
new  to  me.  And,  besides,  what  can  it  matter  to 
you  what  I  find  or  do  not  find  ?  "  I  added,  fearing 
that  I  had  gone  too  far  in  my  strictures.  "  I  do 
not  pretend  that  my  opinion  has  any  weight ; 
indeed  it  is  scarcely  an  opinion  at  all,  only  a  first 
impression." 

"  It  matters  to  me  a  great  deal  what  you  think," 
he  said  with  a  seriousness  which  annoyed  me  then, 
but  which  came  to  explain  itself  in  a  hundred  ways 
later.  "  They  are  coming  back,"  he  said  in  the 
same  breath,  but  in  quite  a  different  tone,  rising  to 
his  feet  as  he  spoke. 

From  the  moment  that  the  boats  touched  the 
shore  I  was  rid  of  my  almost  obtrusively  attentive 
squire.  He  had  fasted  too  long  from  the  be- 
loved presence  to  be  able  to  restrain  himself  any 
longer.  Indeed  when  I  think  of  the  pangs  of 
jealousy  which  his  susceptible  heart  must  have 
been  undergoing  while  sitting  beside  me  on  that 
willow  stem,  knowing  all  the  time  his  rival  to  be 
in  full  possession  of  the  field,  I  feel  remorse  even 
now.  But  he  made  up  amply  for  lost  time.  Dat- 
ing from  the  landing  of  the  party  he  had  eyes  and 
ears  for  one  person  alone.  The  rest  of  the  after- 
noon was,  in  fact,  a  sort  of  moral  duel  between 
him  and  Malewicz,  in  whom  I  had  pains  in  rec- 
ognising my  taciturn  companion  of  last  Sunday. 
By  the  restless  light  in  his  black  eyes  and  the 


6i  ONEYEAR 

somewhat  restless  gaiety  of  his  whole  bearing  it 
was  easy  to  see  that,  having  once  made  up  his 
mind  to  the  infringement  of  principle  which  to  him 
was  included  in  this  week-day  holiday,  he  was  de- 
termined to  drain  the  pleasure  to  the  dregs.  To- 
day he  was  as  quick  as  even  Wladimir,  in  reading 
every  wish  in  the  eyes  of  his  mistress.  And  she 
had  a  good  many  wishes  to-day,  as  indeed  she  was 
apt  to  have.  She  had  brought  one  with  her  back 
from  the  pond,  and  as  she  stepped  on  shore  aided 
by  Malewicz,  it  was  put  into  words. 

"  How  would  it  be  to  drink  tea  here  ?  "  she  ex- 
claimed gleefully.  "  Is  there  any  reason  why  I 
should  not  send  for  the  samovar  ?  It  is  much  too 
early  to  go  home  yet,  and  it  will  taste  ever  so 
much  better  here — that  willow  is  a  sofa  ready 
made." 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  the  idea  was  enthusi- 
astically taken  up,  affording  the  two  rivals  endless 
opportunities  of  outdoing  each  other's  zeal.  One 
charged  himself  with  procuring  the  samovar  from 
the  house,  the  other  with  collecting  sticks  for  heat- 
ing it ;  both  seemed  bent  on  cracking  their  cheeks 
with  blowing  on  the  recalcitrant  coals  that  would 
not  glow  as  they  ought,  and  their  endeavours  to 
distribute  glasses  and  plates  were  so  much  more 
strenuous  than  judicious  as  to  prove  fatal  to  more 
than  one  piece  of  crockery.  Wladimir  it  was 
whose  skill  in  cutting  up  the  cakes  called  forth 


ONE      YEAR  63 

Jadwiga's  outspoken  approval,  but  a  greater  tri- 
umph was  reserved  to  Malewicz. 

"  What  a  pity  we  can't  have  one  of  those  big 
carps  to  tea,"  Madame  Kouska  had  observed. 
"  They  did  look  so  appetising  flashing  about  in 
the  net." 

"  That  is  an  idea  !  "  cried  Jadwiga,  always  ready 
for  anything  new.  "  Why  do  you  say  l  a  pity  '  ? 
We  have  only  got  to  buy  one  from  the  Jew 
and  roast  it  on  the  spot,  here,  under  the  trees — ah, 
it  makes  me  feel  hungry  already — let  us  do  it  at 
once,  this  very  moment !  I  can't  possibly  wait  for 
more  than  five  minutes." 

It  was  Jadwiga's  habit  to  want  everything  to 
happen  at  once ;  any  space  left  between  a  sugges- 
tion and  its  execution  was  to  her  impatient  cast  of 
mind  a  sort  of  agony.  She  had  scarcely  done 
speaking  when  Malewicz  had  already  started  along 
the  bank  toward  where  the  Jew,  surrounded  by  large 
water  barrels,  was  superintending  the  sorting  of  the 
fish.  Wladimir,  busy  with  artistically  disposing 
his  slices  of  cake,  had  missed  his  opportunity  this 
time.  In  a  few  minutes  Malewicz  was  back  hold- 
ing a  magnificent  carp  in  his  hands.  A  radiant 
glance  rewarded  him — far  too  radiant  it  seemed  to 
my  perhaps  rather  rigid  principles.  Jadwiga,  in- 
toxicated either  by  the  brilliancy  of  the  dazzling 
autumn  day — for  the  magnificent  weather  of  my 
arrival  had  not  yet  broken— or  by  the  ardour  of 


64  ()  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

her  admirers,  seemed  possessed  to-day  by  a  devil 
of  coquetry  which  obviously  delighted  in  pitting 
the  two  men  against  each  other.  Dressed  in  a 
pearl-grey  cashmere  which  she  had  brought  with 
her  from  Limbcrg  and  with  a  broad-brimmed,  soft 
felt  on  her  head,  her  cheeks  faintly  coloured  by 
the  crispness  of  the  air,  she  was  looking  beautiful 
enough  to  make  her  task  easy  indeed. 

"You  are  dropping  the  water  on  to  the  ladies!  " 
cried  Wladimir,  in  accents  of  true  horror.  "  Why 
did  you  not  take  a  boy  to  carry  it  ?  " 

Then  came  the  difficult  question  of  cleaning, 
solved  by  calling  in  a  peasant  girl  from  the  gaping 
crowd  around  us. 

Soon  a  most  appetising  scent  arose  from  the  hot 
coals  on  which  the  carp  was  grilling,  and  by  this 
time,  too,  the  samovar  had  allowed  itself  to  be 
coaxed  into  a  good  humour;  more  baskets  of  pro- 
visions had  arrived  from  the  house,  and  our  little 
feast  gaily  took  its  course.  When  I  look  back  in 
memory  to  that  day,  which,  to  my  mind,  always 
remains  a  turning-point  in  Jadwiga's  history,  I 
still  quite  vividly  feel  the  impression  of  the  keen, 
radiant  sunshine — so  keen  that  it  drew  flashes  even 
from  the  brown  dregs  of  the  pond — of  the  old 
burst  willows  leaning  all  aslant,  as  though  search- 
ing for  their  images  in  that  dingy  mirror,  of  the  last 
yellow  willow  leaves  that  fluttered  into  our  plates 
from  off  the  almost  naked  branches  and  the  gossa- 


ONE      YEAR  65 

mer  threads  that  kept  slowly  floating  past  before 
our  eyes.  Close  at  hand  there  was  a  hedge  of 
women  and  children,  devouring  us,  and  more  espe- 
cially our  victuals,  with  their  eyes,  and  beyond 
there  was  the  flat,  treeless  country,  looking  flatter, 
and  to-day,  because  of  the  intense  transparency  of 
the  atmosphere,  the  mushroom-like  huts  of  distant 
villages  were  clearly  visible,  the  brown  of  the 
newly-turned  fields  contrasting  sharply  even  with 
those  that  had  been  turned  a  week  ago — and,  above 
it  all,  and  through  it  all,  there  were  the  yells  of  the 
wading  peasants  in  the  water. 

All  at  once — we  were  far  on  in  our  feast  by 
that  time — the  yells  rose  in  an  acuter  chorus. 
From  a  group  somewhere  about  the  middle  of  the 
pond  something  apparently  exciting  but  quite  in- 
comprehensible was  being  shouted  to  us. 

"  What  are  they  saying  ?  "  asked  Jadwiga  of  the 
bystanders. 

"They  have  caught  the  biggest  fish  in  the 
pond,"  explained  a  woman,  "  and  they  believe  it  is 
going  to  break  the  net." 

"  Oh,  that  must  be  the  old  carp  they  put  back 
again  each  time,"  said  Jadwiga.  "  He  has  been 
here  since  the  time  of  my  grandfather;  the  Jew  is 
not  allowed  to  take  this  one  out — he  is  supposed  to 
bring  luck  to  the  pond.  I  saw  him  three  years 
ago ;  let  us  go  and  look  at  him  now." 

Some    of    the    ladies,    having    apparently    had 


66  ONE      YEAR 

enough  boating  for  the  day,  pretended  not  to  hear, 
but  Jadwiga  ran  down  to  the  bank,  without  stop- 
ping to  see  who  was  following.  The  two  boats 
were  still  lying  side  by  side ;  I  saw  Malewicz  help 
her  into  one  and  begin  rapidly  to  push  away  from 
the  shore  with  the  long  pole  used  by  the  peasants 
on  the  pond,  for  it  was  too  shallow  now  for  oars. 
I  cannot  exactly  say  how  the  thing  happened,  for  I 
had  remained  on  the  top  of  the  bank,  but  I  suppose 
that  Anulka  in  her  haste  had  jumped  into  the  wrong 
boat,  and  when  she  saw  the  first  one  moving  away 
and  in  her  fear  of  being  left  behind  tried  to  jump 
from  the  one  into  the  other  and  fell  short.  At  any 
rate,  not  a  minute  after  Jadwiga  had  left  us  we 
heard  a  double  shriek,  and,  rushing  to  the  top  of 
the  bank,  saw  Anulka  splashing  wildly  in  the 
water,  only  a  few  yards  from  the  shore,  while  the 
boat  with  Malewicz  and  Jadwiga,  following  the 
impulse  of  the  last  stroke  given  by  the  pole,  was 
moving  away  from  her. 

"  Save  her !  "  cried  Jadwiga,  standing  upright 
in  the  boat,  and  looking  as  pale  as  though  her 
sister  had  fallen  into  the  sea  instead  of  into  two 
feet  of  water.  Having  slipped  to  her  knees  in 
falling  there  was  of  course  not  much  to  be  seen 
of  Anulka's  small  person,  which  naturally  increased 
the  flurry  of  the  beholders. 

I  heard  Malewicz  shouting  something,  as,  hav- 
ing with  a  rapid  movement  changed  the  course  of 


ONE      YEAR  67 

the  boat,  he  held  out  the  end  of  the  pole  toward 
Anulka.  She  grasped  it  convulsively  with  her 
wet  hands  and  would  have  been  in  the  boat  al- 
most immediately,  but  at  that  moment  some  one 
snatched  her  up  bodily  and  carried  her  to  the  bank. 
It  was  Wladimir,  who  arriving  just  one  moment 
too  late  to  help  Jadwiga  into  the  first  boat  had  been 
preparing  to  board  the  second  when  Anulka  took 
her  fatal  leap.  With  his  dripping  burden  in  his 
arms  he  now  climbed  the  bank,  and  as  he  put  her 
down  cautiously  on  the  grass  his  hard  breathing 
and  high  colour  betrayed  an  excitement  which 
even  then  struck  me  as  not  quite  in  proportion  to 
the  deed  accomplished. 

"  She  is  saved,"  he  said,  turning  with  a  certain 
solemnity  to  Jadwiga,  who  had  already  regained 
the  bank. 

"  Yes,  she  is  saved,"  said  Jadwiga,  as  she  knelt 
down  beside  the  shivering,  whimpering  little 
bundle,  and  talking  almost  as  solemnly  as  he ;  "I 
shall  never  forget  it." 

41  It  was  a  useless  expenditure  of  valour — and  of 
clothes,"  remarked  Malewicz,  in  an  almost  bitter 
tone,  casting  an  indescribable  glance  at  the  lower 
portion  of  Wladimir's  recently  so  elegant  attire. 
"  It  would  have  been  just  as  easy  to  pull  her  into 
the  boat." 

"  Clothes  cannot  matter  at  moments  like  that," 
replied  Wladimir,  and  as  he  said  it  his  eyes  sought 


68  ONEYEAR 

mine  with  a  clearly  triumphant  glance  which 
seemed  to  be  saying  : — "  Where  is  your  theory  of 
the  wet  feet  now  ?  "  Was  it  indeed  possible  that 
this  fascinating  but  puzzling  young  man  had 
walked  into  the  water,  not  only  to  please  Jadwiga, 
but  also  in  order  to  give  me  the  lie  ?  At  any  rate, 
there  could  be  no  doubt  that  the  honours  of  the 
day  remained  with  him. 


CHAPTER  V 

WITH  as  little  delay  as  possible  Anulka  was 
got  home  and  to  bed,  and  the  gay  afternoon  ended 
in  a  somewhat  disturbed  evening.  "  She  will  be 
ill — I  am  quite  sure  she  will  be  ill,"  Jadwiga 
kept  repeating,  all  the  time  she  was  rubbing  the 
little  creature  down — what  a  meagre  little  lady  it 
was  out  of  its  clothes — and  plying  her  with  hot 
tea ;  but  when  she  had  been  safely  buried  in  blank- 
ets and  her  small  teeth  had  at  length  ceased  chat- 
tering, alarm  gave  way  to  relief.  It  really  looked 
as  though  the  dreaded  chill  had  been  averted, 
and  the  house  resumed  its  normal  physiognomy. 

We  all  went  to  our  rooms  rather  earlier  than 
usual  that  night,  but  I  was  scarcely  in  mine  when 
the  door  opened,  as  it  so  often  did  now,  and  Jad- 
wiga said  : — "  May  I  ?  "  and  then  without  awaiting 
permission,  glided  in  and  took  up  her  usual  station 
on  the  edge  of  my  bed.  This  was  quite  an  estab- 
lished thing  now ;  hardly  an  evening  passed  on 
which  she  did  not  wander  in  in  her  dressing-gown, 
her  bare  feet  in  slippers,  her  fingers  busy  plaiting 
up  her  hair.  Anulka  slept  at  the  far  end  of  the 
house,  in  her  old  nursery,  under  charge  of  the 
elderly  woman  who  had  been  with  her  since  her 


7o  ONEYEAR 

birth  ;  we  had  this  wing  almost  to  ourselves,  Jad- 
wiga  and  I.  This  offered  ideal  opportunities  for 
confidences,  but  until  now  she  had  apparently 
nothing  to  confide  in  me  beyond  her  opinion  on 
the  last  poem  read,  or  some  rather  fantastical  news 
of  life  in  general.  To-day  it  almost  seemed  as 
though  something  more  definite  were  coming ;  I 
could  see  it  by  the  very  silence  which  marked  the 
first  few  minutes  of  her  presence,  and  by  the 
lights  and  shadows  that  chased  each  other  over  her 
expressive  face.  I  was  wondering  whether  she 
was  going  to  speak  at  all  when  she  said  without 
preliminary  : — 

11  What  would  you  do  if  you  were  me  ?  " 

"  About  what  ? "  I  asked,  not  guessing  the  drift 
of  her  question. 

"  About  those  two  men.  I  don't  think  I  am  in- 
ordinately conceited  in  fancying  that  both  care  for 
me." 

"  You  would  need  to  be  very  blind  not  to  see  it," 
I  replied. 

"  Well,  and  what  would  you  do  ? " 

"  Encourage  the  one  I  liked  best." 

"  That  is  exactly  the  difficulty,"  said  Jadwiga, 
beginning  to  laugh  with  a  delicious  helplessness  ; 
"  I  am  not  quite  sure  which  I  like  best.  Some- 
times I  think  it  is  the  one  and  sometimes  the 
other;  they  both  seem  to  me  to  have  their 
points." 


ONE      YEAR  71 

"  Which  simply  means  that  you  don't  care  for 
either  properly,  or  at  least  not  yet." 

u  Oh,  but  I  want  to,"  cried  Jadwiga,  with  almost 
comical  eagerness.  "  I  feel  that  I  shall  never  be 
quite  satisfied  until  I  care  for  some  one  person  very 
much,  and  I  know  that  when  once  I  begin  I  shall 
care  more  seriously  than  most  people  do.  Perhaps 
it  is  this  that  has  kept  me  back  until  now,"  she 
added  reflectively ;  "  the  sort  of  feeling  that  it 
would  be  dangerous  to  let  myself  go." 

"  I  should  advise  you  to  keep  yourself  back  a 
little  longer,"  I  remarked,  "  until  you  know  for 
certain  in  which  direction  you  want  to  go." 

"  No,  no !  "  she  said  impatiently,  "  it  is  time 
now.  It  is  only  when  one  has  given  one's  heart 
entirely  to  some  one  that  one  can  speak  of  living  a 
woman's  real  life — and  I  want  to  give  mine  en- 
tirely. It  is  only  that  which  can  help  one  to  un- 
derstand all  the  poems  that  have  ever  been  written, 
it  is  that  which  explains  all  the  music.  I  know  I 
shall  live  a  fuller  and  happier  life  when  I  have  got 
one  point  round  which  to  group  all  my  thoughts, 
my  hopes,  my  fears,  my  prayers.  At  present  when 
I  read  a  love-song  of  Heine's  I  feel  as  though  it 
were  not  written  for  me,  and  I  want  it  to  be  writ- 
ten for  me — I  want  to  have  a  part  in  its  beauty  and 
in  its  pain.  Each  time  I  sing :  *  Voi  che  sapete 
che  cosa  e  amor,'  I  feel  ashamed,  because  I,  too, 
am  a  woman,  and  do  not  yet  know  what  love  is. 


72  ONE      YEAR 

It  is  like  worshipping  at  an  altar  without  an  idol 
on  it.  Oh,  surely  you  must  understand  what  I 
mean  ? " 

I  could  not  say  that  I  exactly  did,  never  myself 
having  had  experience  of  this  curious  state  of  mind, 
but  looking  at  Jadwiga's  shining  eyes  and  glowing 
lips  and  at  the  heaving  of  the  soft  white  frill  that 
covered  her  beautiful  breast,  I  dimly  understood 
that  all  natures  are  not  alike,  and  that  to  some 
women — perhaps  I  should  rather  say  to  the  women 
of  some  nations — that  sentiment  of  love  is  so  great 
a  necessity  as  to  make  the  object  on  which  it  is 
expended  of  less  vital  importance  than  the  fact  of 
being  able  so  to  expend  it.  I  have  always  thought 
that  if  I  had  not  happened  to  know  Henry  I  would 
never  have  wanted  to  love  at  all,  but  I  am  told  that 
this  is  nonsense,  and  perhaps  it  is,  and  perhaps 
Jadwiga's  case  is  really  the  more  normal  of  the 
two. 

"  You  might  have  pity  on  my  perplexity,"  said 
Jadwiga  with  mock  gravity.  "  I  tell  you  I  have 
never  had  such  difficulty  in  making  up  my  mind." 

"  You  surely  are  not  going  to  ask  me  to  do  so 
for  you  ?  "  I  inquired  in  alarm. 

Jadwiga  began  to  laugh — at  my  distressed  mien, 
I  suppose. 

"  Why  not  ?  You  are  older  than  I  am,  and  at 
least  ten  times  more  sensible.  The  balance  hangs 
quite  even  at  present — at  least  I  think  it  does — a 


ONE      YEAR  73 

word  of  yours  will  make  it  dip  one  way  or  the 
other.  Out  with  it,  then.  Whom  do  you  vote  for 
— Wladimir  or  Krysztof  ?  " 

She  looked  at  me  with  audaciously  laughing 
eyes,  her  head  a  little  thrown  back,  her  white  throat 
displayed.  It  was  evident  that — the  edge  of  the 
fright  concerning  Anulka  once  being  over — her 
easily  moved  spirits  had  leapt  up  in  reaction ;  the 
triumphs  of  the  afternoon  had  resumed  their  sway. 
She  was  joking,  of  course,  and  yet  she  was  not 
only  joking  either.  I  verily  do  believe  that  on  that 
evening  she  was  standing  at  the  cross-roads  of  her 
fate,  inclined  superficially  to  both  of  her  suitors, 
but  deeply  as  yet  to  neither,  and  in  a  state  of  mind 
which  made  it  possible  for  her  to  fall  in  love  with 
either  of  them,  according  as  mere  chance  would 
decide. 

u  I  think  Wladimir  would  make  the  better  lover 
of  the  two,"  I  reflectively  replied,  wishing  to  be 
conscientious  even  if  it  were  only  a  joke — "  an 
ideal  lover,  but  I  can't  help  fancying  that  the  other 
would  make  a  better  husband." 

"  That  is  as  much  as  voting  for  Krysztof,  since  a 
husband  lasts  longer  than  a  lover. 

"Yes,  if  you  insist  on  having  my  opinion  that 
is  the  one  I  should  recommend." 

The  recollection  of  Wladimir's  boyish  smile 
and  of  that  hour  spent  on  the  willow  trunk 
made  me  feel  rather  ungrateful  as  I  said  it,  and 


74  ONE      YEAR 

yet  for  the  life  of  me  I  could  not  have  done  other- 
wise. 

u  What  objection  can  you  possibly  have  to  Wlad- 
imir  ?  "  asked  Jadwiga  contradictiously. 

"  What  objection  can  you  have  to  Pan  Male- 
wicz  ?  He  is  not  so  good-looking  as  his  rival, 
but " 

"  Oh,  yes,  he  is  good-looking,  too,  but  Wladimir 
is  beautiful." 

"  It  seems  to  me  that  my  advice  is  not  wanted," 
I  said,  laughing. 

u  Yes,  it  is,  it  is,"  she  urged.  "  Go  on,  please ; 
what  was  going  to  come  after  that  4but '  ?  " 

" 1  only  meant  to  say  that  if  he  would  do  proper 
justice  to  himself  Pan  Malewicz  could  not  help  be- 
ing a  remarkably  fine  man,  but  he  never  seems  to 
take  time  to  eat,  and  scarcely  to  tie  his  boot  laces, 
and  that  is  what  gives  him  that  overdriven  look." 

Jadwiga  made  a  little  grimace.  "You  see  that  is 
one  of  the  things.  I  have  really  no  doubt  of  his 
worth,  but  I  am  not  sure  that  I  could  pass  my  life 
with  a  man  who  wears  his  coats  as  long  as  Krys- 
ztof  does.  I  know  he  is  a  model  farmer  and  does 
wonders  with  what  remains  of  the  estate,  but  I  do 
like  a  man  to  be  turned  out  well,  and  not  always  to 
be  talking  of  his  potatoes  and  his  turnips — when- 
ever he  talks  at  all.  If  he  were  my  husband  I 
should  not  know  to  whom  to  rave  about  Chopin  or 
Byron,  since  both  poetry  and  music  seem  to  be  to 


ONEYEAR  75 

him  a  sort  of  forbidden  luxuries.  There  is  noth- 
ing but  work  in  his  head  ;  work,  work,  work;  how 
can  that  help  making  a  man  dull  ? " 

"  Does  he  work  for  himself  alone  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  For  himself  and  his  mother,  and  I  suppose  he 
works  for  her  really  more  than  for  himself.  Still, 
that  does  not  make  him  a  more  amusing  compan- 
ion." 

"  But  it  throws  another  light  on  his  manner  of 
being,"  I  remarked.  "  It  shows  that  he  can  devote 
himself." 

"  Don't  praise  him  too  immoderately,"  laughed 
Jadwiga,  "  or  you  will  be  damaging  his  chances." 

"  Well,  decide  for  yourself,  since  it  is  evident 
that  I  cannot  decide  for  you,  but  whichever  way  it 
is  do  not  let  them  both  go  on  hoping  ;  it  is  a  cruel 
sort  of  kindness." 

As  I  said  it  there  came  steps  through  the  adjoin- 
ing room,  and  Anulka's  attendant  put  her  head  in 
at  the  door  and  said  something  in  Polish  to  Jad- 
wiga. She  was  on  her  feet  in  an  instant,  white  as 
death. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  I  told  you  how  it  would  be,"  said  Jadwiga,  ex- 
citedly. "  She  is  worse — Anulka.  She  awoke  in 
high  fever  and  they  have  sent  for  the  doctor,"  and, 
pushing  the  nurse  to  one  side,  she  left  the  room.  I 
followed  in  silence.  In  the  old  nursery  at  the  end 
of  the  house  we  found  a  strange,  shrunken  figure  in 


76  ONE      YEAR 

a  limp  white  dressing-gown  and  a  lace  night-cap, 
sitting  motionless  beside  the  bed.  The  figure  did 
not  turn  its  head  at  our  entrance,  and  it  was  not 
until  I  was  close  to  the  bed  that  I  recognised  Ma- 
dame Bielinska.  Her  large  cavernous  eyes  never 
moved  from  Anulka's  face,  and  the  habitual  terror 
which  dwelt  in  their  depth  seemed  to  have  crept 
out  of  them  and  to  have  spread  over  the  whole  of 
her  emaciated  features. 

One  glance  at  the  ghastly  face  on  the  pillow 
showed  that  we  had  rejoiced  too  soon,  and  that  the 
dreaded  chill  had,  after  all,  not  been  averted. 
Anulka,  her  teeth  chattering  worse  than  ever,  lay 
cowered  up  into  herself,  for  the  cold  fit  of  the 
fever  was  upon  her. 

There  was  little  rest  for  the  household  after 
that.  First  there  came  the  long  anxious  wait  for 
the  doctor,  then  the  doctor  himself,  then  the  bustle 
produced  by  the  carrying  out  of  his  prescriptions. 
It  was  long  past  midnight  when  Madame  Bielinska 
allowed  herself  to  be  led  back  to  her  room.  Jad- 
wiga  refused  to  leave  her  sister,  but  fell  asleep  on 
a  sofa  in  the  corner  of  the  nursery,  exhausted  with 
the  various  experiences  of  the  day.  Anulka  her- 
self had  dropped  into  an  uneasy  slumber,  and  to 
all  intents  and  purposes  I  found  myself  alone  with 
Mary  a,  the  white-haired  nurse,  who  gave  no  fur- 
ther vent  to  her  feelings  than  by  the  utterance  of 
portentously  deep  sighs,  as  she  moved  about  the 


ONE      YEAR  77 

room,  busy  with  compresses  and  basins  and  night- 
lights,  and  all  the  paraphernalia  of  a  sick-room. 
Presently  she  came  and  sat  down  beside  me,  still 
sighing  softly  to  herself. 

"  Has  she  often  been  taken  like  this  before  ?  "  I 
asked  in  a  whisper  of  my  companion,  for  in  the 
course  of  her  lengthy  career  she  had  picked  up 
enough  German  to  make  a  sort  of  roughshod  con- 
versation possible  between  us. 

"  Often,  often,"  replied  old  Marya  with  an 
extra  deep  sigh.  "  I  have  thought  to  bury  her  ten 
times  at  least." 

"  It  is  strange  she  should  be  so  delicate  when 
her  sister  appears  to  have  such  good  health,"  I  re- 
marked. "It  really  was  nothing  of  a  chill  to 
speak  of — a  mere  mud  bath,  that  was  all." 

The  woman  looked  at  me  as  though  not  sure 
whether  to  be  indignant  at  my  ignorance  or  com- 
passionate with  it. 

"  Strange  ?  Would  it  not  be  stranger  far  if  she 
had  her  sister's  health  ?  Poor  mite,  poor  mite  ! 
she  has  never  had  a  chance.  Her  father  himself 
took  it  from  her.  It  is  him  she  has  to  thank  for 
that  puny  little  face  of  hers  and  those  narrow 
shoulders." 

"  Her  father  ?  "  I  repeated  in  surprise.  "  But 
to  judge  from  his  portrait  he  must  have  been  a  re- 
markably fine  man,  with  anything  but  narrow 
shoulders." 


78  ONEYEAR 

Marya  laughed  under  her  breath,  and  went  on 
in  her  hoarse  whisper : — 

"  Ah,  so  he  was,  so  he  was — it  is  not  of  what 
he  was  in  life  that  I  am  speaking,  but  of  what  he 
was  in  death;  it  is  that  which  frightened  our  gra- 
cious lady  to  the  point  of  bringing  her  to  bed  pre- 
maturely, and  to  make  of  her  babe  almost  a  cripple. 
Did  you  not  know  that  she  was  a  seven  month 
child  ?  " 

I  felt  now  that  I  was  close  to  that  mystery 
which  I  had  until  now  only  vaguely  suspected,  that 
a  question  would  probably  be  enough  to  disclose  to 
me  the  history  of  the  family,  but  I  shrank  from 
asking  it  of  a  servant,  and  apparently  it  did  not 
occur  to  her  to  tell  me  more,  probably  because  to 
her  it  was  no  mystery,  but  an  open  secret,  known 
to  every  child  within  ten  miles  of  Ludniki.  This 
very  publicity  it  was  which  kept  me  from  knowing 
it,  every  one  taking  for  granted  that  I  had  heard 
the  truth  already  from  some  other  person. 

We  relapsed  into  silence,  and  presently  Marya 
left  the  room  to  fetch  some  article  required.  As 
the  door  softly  closed  I  saw  Anulka's  fever-bright 
eyes  opening  wide.  The  heat  fit  was  upon  her 
now,  as  I  could  see  by  the  streak  of  scarlet  on  her 
cheeks. 

"  I  was  not  asleep,"  she  said  with  a  grotesquely 
sly  smile  on  her  burning  face.  "  I  heard  you  and 
Marya  talking,  but  she  did  not  tell  you  everything. 


ONE      YEAR  79 

Shall  I  tell  it  you  ?  Come  here  and  I  will  whis- 
per." 

She  stretched  out  one  of  her  thin  arms,  and 
clutching  hold  of  the  sleeve  of  my  dressing-gown, 
pulled  my  head  down  to  the  pillow  beside  her. 

"  Papa  was  mad,"  she  said  in  my  ear,  upon 
which  I  could  feel  her  dry  breath  like  that  of  a 
furnace.  "  I  never  saw  him,  but  Marya  told  me 
he  was  mad,  and  so  did  Jadwiga,  so  it  must  be 
true.  Have  you  ever  seen  a  mad  person  ?  " 

"  Lie  still,"  I  urged,  trying  to  speak  calmly,  al- 
though painfully  impressed.  "  The  doctor  said 
you  were  not  to  talk,"  and  I  gently  disengaged  my- 
self from  her  arm.  Anulka  stared  at  me  in  si- 
lence, with  wide  uncomprehending  eyes  which 
seemed  to  have  lost  the  sense  of  my  identity. 

When  I  got  back  to  my  room  the  owls  had 
ceased  to  scream  in  the  bushes  that  grew  close 
against  the  windows,  and  the  birds  were  beginning 
to  stir,  for  daylight  was  near.  I  lay  down  on  my 
bed,  but  what  uneasy  slumber  I  snatched  was 
crossed  and  intercrossed  by  confused  and  phantas- 
mal dreams  of  the  muddy  pond,  the  wading  peas- 
ants, the  dripping  Anulka,  with  a  mad  father  hov- 
ering somewhere  in  the  background,  but  always 
vanishing  each  time  I  tried  to  examine  him  more 
closely. 


CHAPTER  VI 

"LUDNIKI,  November  3Oth,  188 — . 

"  MY  DEAR  AGNES, — I  have  got  the  whole  story 
at  last,  and  a  ghastly  enough  story  it  is,  but  it 
leaves  me  as  puzzled  as  ever.  There  is  a  mystery 
behind  the  mystery — to  my  mind,  at  least — and 
which  seems  to  me  ten  times  more  bewildering 
than  the  thing  I  have  discovered.  But  in  order  to 
explain  how  I  came  to  discover  it  I  must  tell  you 
of  one  of  the  most  exciting  experiences  that  has 
ever  come  my  way. 

"  I  think  I  told  you  that  our  little  convalescent  is 
always  springing  the  most  exotic  wishes  upon  us, 
which  have  to  be  fulfilled  on  penalty  of  a  relapse, 
brought  on  by  sheer  irritation.  Well,  the  other 
day  she  was  seized  with  the  desire  of — can  you 
guess  what?  No,  of  course  you  can't — of  a 
cigarette.  She  has  smoked  some  surreptitiously  it 
seems,  and  so  ecstatically  enjoyed  the  forbidden 
fruit  that  its  recollection  came  over  her,  like  a 
craving,  the  other  afternoon.  Great  consternation 
in  the  house;  nobody  knew  exactly  what  to  do; 
torn  between  the  fear  of  harming  her  by  either  an 
acquiescence  or  a  refusal — and  the  chances  seemed 
about  equal — everybody  began  by  losing  their 
80 


ONE      YEAR  81 

heads.  Marya,  having  spent  half  an  hour  in  use- 
less argument,  came  running  in  distress  to  Jadwiga, 
Jadwiga  came  to  me  for  advice.  I  sent  her  to  her 
mother,  from  whom  she  came  back  more  be- 
wildered than  ever,  for  Madame  Bielinska  had 
given  up  deciding  things  so  long  ago,  that  she  has 
forgotten  how  to  do  it.  It  was  finally  I  who  had 
to  speak  the  last  word.  Of  course  I  decided 
against  the  cigarette,  and,  of  course,  every  one 
instantly  turned  upon  me.  Could  I  really  take 
upon  me  the  responsibility  of  the  precious  darling 
fretting  herself  into  a  fever  ?  4  Well,  then,  give 
it  her,  in  Heaven's  name ! '  I  said  desperately, 
*  since  you  are  so  certain  it  will  kill  her  not  to 
have  it.'  *  But  supposing  it  does  her  harm  ? 
Do  you  really  think  it  will  do  her  harm  ? '  I 
returned  that,  not  being  a  doctor,  I  could  be  sure 
of  nothing.  Then  a  simple  solution  struck  me : 
4  Why  not  send  to  Doctor  Kouski  and  put  the 
case  before  him  ?  Clearly  it  is  his  business  to 
decide.'  This  meant  a  delay  of  at  least  two 
hours,  but,  after  an  excited  debate,  and  after 
Jadwiga  had  with  tears  in  her  eyes  implored  her 
sister  to  be  patient  for  just  a  little  longer,  the  pro- 
posal was  adopted. 

" '  I  will  write  a  note  to  Doctor  Kouski,'  said 
Jadwiga,  'and  beg  him  to  be  lenient.' 

" 4  But  supposing  Doctor  Kouski  is  not  at  home? ' 
objected  Anulka  fretfully. 


82  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

" c  Then  Jan  must,  of  course,  go  to  Doctor 
Lanicz.' 

"  Jan  was  the  coachman  who  was  to  go  on  horse- 
back. 

" l  Jan  is  so  stupid,'  said  Anulka,  4  he  is  sure  to 
make  a  mess  of  it,  and  to  come  back  without  an 
answer.  Couldn't  some  one  else  go  ?  Some  one 
who  could  explain  it  all  to  him  ? ' 

" c  It  is  too  cold  for  Marya,  or  else  we  might  have 
sent  the  sledge,'  Jadwiga  was  beginning,  when  I 
had  a  second  idea. 

"  l  Let  me  go ! '  I  said  with  alacrity,  for  the  pros- 
pect of  a  sledge  drive  to  Zloczek  was  strangely 
enticing.  Perhaps  it  will  astonish  you  to  hear  me 
talking  of  sledges  already,  but  I  forgot  to  explain 
that  we  have  jumped  almost  at  one  bound  from 
after-summer  to  mid-winter.  The  fine  weather 
had  lasted  till  past  the  middle  of  this  month — only 
the  air  growing  a  little  keener  every  day  and  the 
sky  of  a  fainter  blue,  and  then  one  night  a  vague 
moan  was  heard  in  the  distance,  and  presently  grew 
into  a  howl,  and  next  morning  the  view  was  veiled 
by  a  whirl  of  snowflakes.  For  three  days  it  was 
impossible  to  take  a  step  outside  the  house ;  even 
the  servants  had  to  shovel  their  way  before  them 
across  the  yard  and  arrived  in  the  kitchen  with 
clumps  of  snow  on  their  hats.  We  lived  in  a  sort 
of  semi-darkness,  and  verily  believed  we  were 
going  to  be  buried  alive.  Then  on  the  fourth 


ONEVEAR  83 

morning  an  equally  abrupt  change :  a  cloudless  sun 
rising  on  a  transformed  world  ;  everything,  as  far 
as  the  eye  could  see,  of  a  dazzling  white ;  the  trees 
no  longer  trees  but  branches  of  white  coral, 
immaculate  cushions  of  snow  on  the  window 
ledges,  the  top  of  the  park  wall  padded  with  snow 
and  apparently  powdered  over  with  diamond  dust. 
After  my  three  days'  imprisonment  I  was  gasping 
for  air ;  you  can  imagine  with  what  zeal  I  offered 
myself  as  messenger.  After  a  little  more  debate  I 
was  accepted,  and,  laden  with  injunctions  and  fur 
rugs,  I  set  forth  on  my  first  sledge  drive,  promising 
to  be  back  in  the  smallest  possible  time.  But 
in  the  event  Anulka  had  to  wait  much  longer 
for  her  cigarette  than  either  she  or  I  had  bargained 
for. 

"  I  wish  I  could  give  you  even  a  faint  idea  of  the 
beauty  of  that  drive  and  of  its  exhilaration,  or  could 
make  you  see  the  almost  painful  brilliancy  of  that 
vast  plain  of  virgin  snow,  as  yet  untrodden  by  any 
foot,  unmarked  by  any  vehicle,  and  on  which  we 
carved  out  our  way  for  ourselves,  as  a  ship  does 
upon  the  ocean — its  whiteness  broken  only  by  the 
blue  shadows  of  solitary  trees.  And  everything  on 
which  you  attempted  to  rest  your  dazzled  eyes  was 
equally  fatiguing  to  look  upon — the  huts  were  not 
thatched  with  straw  to-day,  but  with  snow ;  the 
pollard  willows  which  grew  in  the  palings  wore 
white  snow-caps  upon  their  clumsy  round  heads, 


84  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

and  even  the  beams  of  the  draw-wells  were  thick- 
ened to  twice  their  natural  size  by  the  ridges  of 
snow  they  bore.  If  the  drive  had  lasted  four  hours 
instead  of  one  I  could  not  have  tired  of  observing 
the  work  of  the  last  three  days.  We  were  not  yet 
half  way  to  Zloczek,  however,  when  I  began  to  be 
aware  of  an  indefinable  change  in  the  atmosphere. 
Until  then  the  air  had  been  motionless,  though 
keen,  but  gradually  I  began  to  feel  its  edge  grow 
sharper  in  my  face,  while  it  piped  more  shrilly  past 
my  ear.  I  had  just  observed  this  when  Jan  turned 
on  the  box  and  said  something  to  me,  which,  of 
course,  I  did  not  understand.  He  pointed  forward 
with  his  whip  at  the  same  time,  and  I  now  per- 
ceived that  the  blue  vault  of  the  sky  which  had 
been  so  uniform  half  an  hour  ago  was  covered  in 
the  west  by  a  whitish  grey  cloud  mass,  so  compact 
and  so  clean  cut  at  the  edges  that  it  looked  like 
nothing  so  much  as  a  vast  round  hood,  gradually 
mounting  higher.  It  had  not  yet  reached  the  sun, 
which  still  shone  in  undisturbed  brilliancy,  but  was 
creeping  nearer  to  it  every  moment.  I  had  been 
so  busy  looking  about  me  at  the  wonders  of  this 
white  world  that  I  had  had  no  time  to  glance  ahead. 
Evidently  this  was  a  fresh  instalment  of  the  snow- 
storm which  had  lasted  three  days,  a  sort  of  after- 
thought, as  though  the  Ice  King  had  repented  of 
having  let  us  off  so  cheap.  l  Well,  we  are  going 
to  have  another  shower,'  I  thought  to  myself, 


ONE      YEAR  85 

smiling  a  little  at  Jan's  evident  anxiety.  Zloczek 
lay  somewhere  between  us  and  the  monstrous  snow- 
hood,  and  from  the  way  he  began  to  lash  out  at  the 
horses  it  was  evident  that  he  was  making  every 
effort  to  get  there  before  the  snow  began.  It  was 
a  sort  of  race  between  us  and  that  cloud,  although 
each  was  coming  from  a  different  direction.  At 
first  it  seemed  as  though  we  were  going  to  win — it 
was  the  brilliancy  of  the  sunshine  that  deceived  us 
— but  soon  the  increased  current  of  air  warned  us 
of  the  approach  of  the  enemy.  The  grey  mantle 
drew  over  the  sky  with  amazing  rapidity ;  the 
church  spire  of  Zloczek,  which  had  already  been 
clearly  visible,  first  disappeared  behind  it,  then  I 
missed  a  clump  of  trees  I  had  been  observing — one 
landmark  after  another  was  blotted  out,  until  sud- 
denly in  one  moment  the  sun  was  gone,  as  abruptly 
as  a  candle  blown  out,  and  leaving  us  in  what,  by 
contrast  with  the  recent  brilliancy,  seemed  almost 
like  darkness.  At  the  same  instant  the  cold  became 
deadly,  and,  looking  past  Jan's  shoulder,  I  said 
aloud  instinctively :  4  Good  gracious !  what  is 
that  ? '  forgetting  that  he  could  not  understand  me 
— for  a  wall  seemed  rushing  upon  us,  a  white, 
wild-looking  wall,  with  a  furious  face  and  a  raging 
voice  that  struck  terror  into  my  heart  even  before 
I  realised  what  there  was  to  fear  from  it.  At  the 
same  moment  the  sledge  gave  a  violent  jerk ;  I  saw 
that  Jan  was  pulling  round  the  horses,  and  wondered 


86  ONE      YEAR 

vaguely  whether  he  had  gone  mad,  for  he  was  also 
making  frantic  signs  to  me  with  the  flat  of  his  left 
hand.  In  the  next  moment  he  had  checked  the 
horses  sharply,  and,  throwing  down  the  reins,  had 
flung  himself  face  foremost  on  the  back  of  one  of 
them.  And  after  that  I  had  not  time  to  observe 
anything  more,  for  I  was  gasping  for  breath  and 
fighting  with  the  wind  for  my  head  covering,  for 
that  white  wall  was  upon  us.  I  cannot  tell  you 
what  a  real  Polish  snowstorm  looks  like  seen  at 
close  quarters,  for  to  open  my  eyes  was  as  impossible 
to  me  as  to  lift  my  head.  Instinctively  I  crouched 
to  the  bottom  of  the  sledge — I  knew  not  what  Jan 
had  meant  by  that  frantic  pantomime — and  as  I  did 
so  I  could  feel  the  lightly-built  thing  shuddering 
through  each  wooden  member  under  the  onslaught 
of  the  hurricane.  For  one  moment  it  seemed  verily 
as  though  it  must  lift  us  from  our  place.  I  could 
not  exactly  say  how  I  expected  to  be  killed — 
whether  by  sheer  cold,  or  breathlessness,  or  by 
suffocation  under  the  snow,  but  I  remember  having 
felt  as  though  it  could  surely  not  be  possible  to 
come  out  of  this  alive.  I  cannot  tell  you  either 
how  long  it  lasted,  if  it  was  really  only  ten  minutes, 
as  I  have  since  been  assured,  then  they  were  cer- 
tainly the  longest  ten  minutes  I  have  known  in  my 
life— each  minute  was  a  terror  in  itself,  and  yet  there 
was  also  a  mild  sort  of  exhilaration  about  it  which 
was  a  better  support  than  all  my  fur  coverings.  I 


ONE      YEAR  87 

am  not  sure  even  that  there  was  not  a  little  regret 
mingled  with  the  real  relief  I  felt  when  I  became 
aware  that  the  climax  had  been  passed.  As  soon 
as  my  breath  began  to  come  more  easily  I  cautiously 
looked  up  and  immediately  received  a  fresh  shower 
of  snow  upon  my  face,  that  which  had  accumulated 
on  my  head  during  the  past  minutes.  Just  at  first 
I  imagined  that  somehow  I  was  no  longer  in  the 
sledge,  for  to  the  right  and  to  the  left  of  me  the 
snow  was  on  a  level  with  my  elbows,  completely 
masking  the  woodwork  on  all  sides.  The  snow- 
flakes  still  flew  past  us,  but  growing  thinner  every 
instant,  while  ahead  of  us  the  landscape  was  wiped 
out  by  the  retreating  snow-cloud.  The  horses 
stood  with  drooping  heads,  trembling  in  every 
limb,  up  to  their  bellies  in  snow,  with  the  scared, 
yet  submissive  look  of  chastised  creatures.  Jan,  a 
prostrate  man  of  snow,  still  lay  motionless,  but 
presently  raised  himself  slowly  and  turned  toward 
me,  as  though  to  see  if  I  were  still  alive.  We 
looked  at  each  other  in  silence,  no  words  were 
necessary,  nor  would  have  been  wanted,  even  with 
better  means  of  communication.  Of  course,  he 
had  gone  through  this  sort  of  thing  before,  and  I 
had  not,  which  no  doubt  made  him  the  calmer  of 
the  two  at  this  moment,  in  contradistinction  to  my 
foolish  calmness  of  ten  minutes  ago. 

u  I  will  skip  the  next  hour  or  so,  which  was  spent 
partly  in   shouting  for  help  and  partly  (by  me)  in 


88  ONEYEAR 

waiting  for  it,  for  Jan  had  ended  by  wading  off 
waist-deep  in  snow  toward  the  first  houses  of 
Zloczek,  not  more  than  a  quarter  of  a  mile  distant. 
He  returned  heading  a  party  of  men  with  spades, 
and  presently  the  half-frozen  horses  dragged  us 
slowly  into  Zloczek.  The  sun  was  actually  out 
again  by  this  time,  although  near  to  setting,  and 
the  remnant  of  the  snow-cloud  fast  disappearing  on 
the  horizon.  On  the  whole,  I  was  agreeably  sur- 
prised by  my  first  view  of  Zloczek,  which  had 
been  described  to  me  as  *  a  dirty  hole  full  of  Jews.' 
How  much  the  snow  had  to  answer  for  I  don't 
know,  of  course,  but  my  impression  of  the  long, 
wide  street  and  the  big,  square  market-place  was 
not  unfavourable,  perhaps  partly  because  they  were 
empty — of  Jews  as  well  as  of  anything  else,  for 
every  one  was  still  safe  behind  doors  and  windows. 
The  panic  of  the  last  half-hour  was  still  written 
plainly  over  everything,  and,  although  it  was  still 
broad  daylight,  the  bells  of  our  sledge  rang  out  in 
an  almost  unbroken  silence,  as  though  in  a  town 
of  the  dead. 

41 1  confess  I  was  glad  to  find  myself  under  the 
doctor's  roof,  and  only  when  good  little  Madame 
Kouska  had  pulled  the  gloves  of?  my  numb  fingers 
and  unbuttoned  my  sealskin  for  me  did  I  realise 
how  very  nearly  I  had  been  frozen  to  death.  I  was 
greeted  with  exclamations  and  overwhelmed  with 
questions,  but  at  the  same  time  entreated  not  to 


ONE      YEAR  89 

answer  them  and  neither  to  stir  out  of  the  roomy 
armchair  into  which  I  had  been  almost  forcibly 
pushed  nor  to  fatigue  myself  with  speaking  until  I 
had  swallowed  at  least  three  glasses  of  hot  tea.  At 
the  third  glass  I  began  to  be  aware  that  my  blood 
was  again  circulating  and,  with  reviving  senses,  re- 
membered my  actual  errand.  But  scarcely  had  I 
explained  and  expressed  a  wish  for  a  speedy  settle- 
ment of  the  question,  than  Madame  Kouska 
laughed  in  my  face.  4  One  sees  you  are  a  stranger 
here,'  she  gleefully  exclaimed.  l  Do  you  actually 
imagine  that  you  will  get  back  to  Ludniki  to-night  ? 
Not  even  a  maniac  would  think  of  it.  Of  course 
you  will  have  to  sleep  here,  whether  you  like  it  or 
not,  and  if  you  don't  like  it,  it  will  be  a  proper 
punishment  for  not  having  visited  me  yet — Provi- 
dence is  on  my  side,  you  see.  Besides,  my  hus- 
band is  not  at  home,  and  will  not  be  for  two  days 
more,  so  you  can't  ask  your  question.' 

" 4  But  Anulka  will  go  into  a  fever  if  she  does 
not  get  her  cigarette,'  I  said  in  distress.  Upon 
which  Madame  Kouska  assured  me  that  Anulka 
would  be  sure  to  be  so  frightened  about  me  that 
she  would  not  even  think  of  her  cigarette.  The 
snowstorm  was  quite  certain  to  have  put  it  out  of 
her  head,  and  everybody  at  Ludniki  knew  too  well 
what  a  snowstorm  was  to  think  of  expecting  me 
back  that  night. 

"  I  protested  vigorously,  and  it  was  not  until  I 


9o  ONE      YEAR 

had  from  Jan's  pantomime  understood  the  utter 
unfeasibility  of  getting  through  the  snowdrifts  that 
night  that  I  resigned  myself  to  my  fate. 

"  Except  for  my  qualms  regarding  Anulka,  it  really 
was  not  a  hard  fate,  for  my  dark-eyed  little  hostess 
was  evidently  brimming  over  with  gratification  at 
having  captured  me  thus  unawares,  and  presently 
proceeded  with  great  delight  to  show  me  over  the 
house.  The  children  I  had  been  seeing  ever  since 
my  arrival — three  or  four  sturdy,  but  somewhat 
grimy  looking  little  mites,  who  kept  climbing  on  to 
their  mother's  knee,  and  rolling  off  again,  and 
bumping  their  heads,  and  howling,  and  getting  con- 
soled, and  poking  their  fingers  into  her  eyes,  with- 
out ever  succeeding  in  disturbing  her  equanimity. 
She  is  one  of  those  happy  people  who  seem  to  be 
pleased  with  everything.  4  This  is  my  store-room,' 
she  said  to  me  with  conscious  pride,  opening  the 
door  of  a  small  closet  off  the  dining-room,  so 
placed  that  somebody  has  to  get  up  from  table  each 
time  that  something  is  wanted  out  of  it.  In  the 
store-room  I  caught  sight  of  a  pleasing  mixture  of 
dress-baskets,  empty  bottles,  flour  sacks,  soap  and 
candles,  together  with  a  sprinkling  of  baby  linen 
hung  up  to  dry.  7  should  have  called  it  a  superior 
sort  of  dusthole,  but  she  called  it  a  store-room,  and 
was  evidently  happy  in  its  possession ;  and  there- 
fore to  be  envied,  I  suppose.  The  rest  of  the 
house  was  to  match,  but,  indeed,  I  feel  almost 


ONE      YEAR  91 

wicked  in  causing  you  to  smile  over  these  things, 
for  what  can  empty  bottles  and  broken  mouse-traps 
and  even  spider-webs  matter  when  they  are  coupled 
with  so  much  true  kindness  of  heart ;  and  what  is 
the  odds  of  the  sideboard  having  to  stand  in  the 
nursery,  because  of  there  being  no  room  for  it  in 
the  dining-room,  so  long  as  there  is  no  false  shame 
about  the  matter  ?  It  was  delightfully  unconven- 
tional to  be  waited  on  by  a  barefooted  peasant  girl, 
and  there  was  something  refreshingly  natural  in  the 
open  and  above-board  way  in  which  the  best  china 
and  the  '  company  spoons '  were  dealt  out  in  my 
honour  as  well  as  in  my  presence.  Perhaps  my 
tastes  are  changing,  but  I  can  assure  you  that  all 
the  comparisons  I  made  that  evening  between  this 
and  the  more  correct  forms  of  entertainment  I  had 
hitherto  been  used  to,  turned  out  to  the  disadvan- 
tage of  the  latter. 

"  It  was  not  until  we  had  had  our  supper  and  the 
children  had  been  put  to  bed  that  the  conversation 
became  interesting.  Despite  my  partiality  for  Ma- 
dame Kouska  I  must  admit  that  her  range  of  topics 
is  limited,  varying  principally  between  babies  and 
frocks,  and  mingled  with  a  good  many  confessions 
touching  the  incorrigible  frivolity  of  the  speaker. 
4 1  am  afraid  I  am  amusing  you  very  badly,'  she 
said  at  least  ten  times  that  evening,  c  but  I  don't 
know  how  to  talk  of  anything  except  balls  and 
fashions.'  Nevertheless  I  mistrust  the  genuine- 


92  ONEYEAR 

ness  of  that  absolute  frivolity  she  claims — one 
thing  which  leads  me  to  do  so  is  the  observation 
that  she  dotes  on  her  children,  sleeps  in  a  room 
with  three  babies,  feeds  the  youngest  one  on  her 
knee  at  table,  can't  enter  the  nursery  without  see- 
ing at  once  who  has  been  crying  and  who  has  not, 
and  in  general  leads  the  life  of  a  dog  at  home, 
though  seen  out  of  it  no  one  would  guess  this 
smiling  model  of  fashion  had  any  interest  higher 
than  her  dress.  There  are  also  strong  grounds  for 
suspicion  that  she  possesses  several  housewifely 
virtues,  and  is  as  practical  about  pickling  cabbages 
as  about  making  ruches. 

"  But  to  return  to  this  particular  conversation. 
We  were  sitting  alone  in  the  little  sitting-room, 
with  the  albums  on  the  table  and  the  paper  flowers 
in  the  vases — tout  comme  chez  nous,  as  you  see. 
The  small,  middle-class  apartment  with  the  wood 
fire  crackling  in  the  stove  felt  wonderfully  snug 
after  my  experiences  of  the  afternoon,  and  a  gentle 
drowsiness  was  beginning  to  steal  over  my  senses 
when  Madame  Kouska  startled  me  by  saying : — 
1  Tell  me,  are  you  not  afraid  of  ghosts  in  that  big 
house  over  there  ? '  I  replied  drowsily  that  I  was 
not,  and  had  not  even  heard  that  the  house  was 
supposed  to  be  haunted.  *  Neither  have  I,'  she 
replied,  '  but  it  ought  to  be,  if  ever  any  house 
was.  That  Ludniki  should  not  have  a  ghost 
of  its  own  is  enough  to  make  one  disbelieve 


ONE      YEAR 93 

in    ghosts    altogether — surely    you    must    confess 

that  ? ' 

"  '  How  can  I  without  knowing  the  reason  ? '  I 
said.  1 1  have,  indeed,  noticed  that  there  is  a 
room  which  the  servants  don't  like  entering  after 
dark,  but  they  have  not  told  me  why,  and  I  would 
not  understand  if  they  did.' 

"  c  Well,  surely  that  is  comprehensible,'  said  my 
hostess,  with  a  little  shiver.  4 1  know  that  nothing 
would  induce  me  to  go  into  that  room  after  eight 
in  the  evening.' 

"  4  Has  anything  particular  happened  there  ? '  I 
asked,  still  a  little  sleepily. 

"  Madame  Kouska's  looks  betrayed  undisguised 
amazement. 

" l  But  surely  you  know,'  she  persisted.  *  It 
can't  be  that  you  don't  know — living  in  the 
house.' 

" '  No,  I  don't  know,'  I  said,  a  little  impatiently, 
I  think,  l  and  exactly  because  I  am  living  in  the 
house ;  though  I  am  always  hearing  hints  dropped 
and  catching  half  remarks  which  I  don't  know 
how  to  interpret.  If  you  know  and  if  it  is  no 
secret  I  wish  you  would  tell  me  once  for  all,  so  as 
to  let  me  feel  a  little  less  foolish  when  the  matter 
is  alluded  to.' 

" 4  Then  you  know  absolutely  nothing  about  Pan 
Bielinski's  death  ? '  she  asked,  still  amazed. 

"  '  Nothing,'  I  said. 


94  ONEYEAR 

" l  You  don't  know  that  he  was  a  murderer  ? ' 

"  I  think  I  must  have  jumped  on  my  chair,  for 
she  put  out  her  hand  as  though  to  soothe  me. 

"*I  don't  believe  it,'  I  said  instinctively,  and 
merely  because  I  loved  Jadwiga. 

" '  How  strange  you  should  not  know,'  was  all 
she  said,  "and  yet  it  is  comprehensible,  for  of 
course  the  family  would  not  speak  of  it.  I  will 
tell  you  if  you  wish — it  is  no  secret,  since  every 
one  here  knows  it.  It  happened  nearly  eleven 
years  ago — it  will  be  eleven  years  in  spring — just 
after  we  married — you  wouldn't  take  me  to  be 
thirty,  would  you  ? — Bazyli — that  is  my  husband 
— was  the  Bezirks  Arzt  (doctor  appointed  by  Gov- 
ernment) then,  as  he  is  still,  and  of  course  was  in 
the  middle  of  it  all,  in  his  official  capacity.  It 
was  a  terrible  beginning  for  me,  and  gave  me  a 
painfully  vivid  idea  of  a  doctor's  experiences.' 

"And  then  she  gave  me  the  following  facts  in  a 
somewhat  sprawling  and  not  always  clear  shape — 
for  her  French  is  distinctly  ricketty — and  which  I 
find  easier  to  condense  into  my  own  words. 

"  It  appears  then  that  eleven  years  ago — come  the 
next  i  ith  of  April — a  wandering  monk  had  come 
to  the  Ludniki  house  toward  evening.  He  was 
one  of  those  begging  friars  who  travel  about  the 
country  for  weeks  at  a  time,  collecting  alms  for 
the  poor.  All  their  journeys  are  done  on  foot,  and 
this  one,  too,  had  come  alone  and  unattended.  In 


ONE      YEAR  95 

Poland,  the  land  of  universal  hospitality,  it  stands 
to  reason  that  these  holy  mendicants  are  received 
with  open  arms,  and  Pan  Bielinski  did  not  fall 
short  of  what  was  expected  of  him  in  this  respect. 
He  was  alone  at  home,  his  wife  and  little  girl — 
Jadwiga  was  then  eight  years  old — having  gone  to 
Limberg  for  some  days  (to  the  dentist,  I  should 
risk  guessing),  and  being  expected  home  next  morn- 
ing. The  friar  was  received,  not  at  the  back  door, 
but  at  the  front,  and,  as  a  matter  of  course,  sat  at 
the  table  of  his  host.  The  servants  who  waited  on 
the  tete-a-tete  meal  afterward  deposed  that  there 
had  been  a  great  deal  of  excited  talk  between  host 
and  guest,  none  of  which  they  could,  however, 
understand,  as  it  was  not  conducted  in  Polish.  In 
all  probability  it  was  French,  as  after  circumstances 
showed.  The  discussion — if  it  was  a  discussion — 
was  continued  in  the  drawing-room  until  a  late 
hour,  after  which  the  friar  retired  to  the  room 
which  had  been  prepared  for  him.  At  break  of 
day  next  morning  he  was  to  continue  his  journey. 
Pan  Bielinski  in  person  conducted  him  to  the  house 
door,  and  there  bent  his  head  to  receive  his  parting 
blessing.  All  this  was  in  strict  accordance  with 
usage ;  but  after  that  he  did  something  quite  un- 
expected. At  the  very  moment  that  the  friar's 
bare,  sandalled  foot  was  in  the  act  of  crossing  the 
threshold  he  took  a  revolver  out  of  his  pocket  and 
shot  him  straight  through  the  head  ;  then,  before 


96  ONE      YEAR 

the  servants  standing  by  had  time  to  collect  their 
senses,  he  turned,  walked  back  into  his  own  room, 
and  put  a  second  ball  into  his  own  brain.  He 
must  have  been  a  first-rate  shot,  for  he  seems  to 
have  killed  both  his  man  and  himself  instanta- 
neously. 

"  l  They  were  both  still  lying  exactly  as  they  had 
fallen  when  my  husband  and  the  judge  arrived  at 
the  house  two  hours  later,'  said  Madame  Kouska, 
at  this  point  of  the  narrative,  her  pretty  face  pale 
with  the  revival  of  the  awful  recollection.  l  An- 
drej,  the  old  footman,  had  sense  enough  left  to  for- 
bid any  one  to  touch  them  before  the  appearance 
of  the  authorities.  Bazyli  says  it  was  the  most 
awful  sight  he  has  ever  seen,  and  yet  he  has  seen  a 
good  many.  In  the  open  house  door,  exactly  on 
the  threshold,  which  was  splashed  over  with  his 
blood,  the  monk  sat  as  though  cowering  on  the 
ground,  with  his  back  propped  against  the  door- 
post. In  his  left  hand  he  clutched  his  rosary,  his 
right  arm  stretched  out,  and  the  forefinger  extended, 
as  though  he  were  pointing  at  something  ;  his  eyes 
were  wide  open.  In  the  first  moment  it  seemed  as 
though  he  must  be  still  alive,  but  soon  Bazyli  saw 
that  the  finger  was  quite  stiff*  and  that  the  eyes 
were  broken.  He  says  the  other  body  was  worse 
to  look  at,  for  Pan  Bielinski  had  fired  into  his 
mouth,  and  in  consequence  of  the  concussion  the 
skull  was  smashed  and  the  muzzle  of  the  revolver 


ONE      YEAR  97 

looked  out  at  the  top  of  his  head.  Oh,  it  makes 
me  quite  sick  to  think  of  it  even  now,  although  I 
only  heard  it  described,'  and  the  little  woman 
covered  her  eyes,  shivering. 

ut  But  Madame  Bielinska  ? '  I  asked  aghast,  with 
a  swift  recollection  of  what  Marya  had  said, 
4  surely  she  did  not  see.' 

" 4  Yes,  she  did,'  said  my  hostess.  l  The  car- 
riage had  been  already  sent  to  the  station  during 
the  night,  and  in  the  flurry  every  one  forgot  about 
her,  and  she  walked  straight  into  the  house  while 
the  commission  was  verifying  the  facts,  with  that 
darling  Jadwiga  by  her  side,  past  the  dead  monk, 
and  found  her  husband  just  as  I  have  described. 
She  very  nearly  died  of  it,  poor  thing,  and  of 
course  Jadwiga  will  never  forget.' 

" 1 1  should  think  not,'  I  said,  and  I  remembered 
that  Jadwiga  had  used  almost  those  very  words  her- 
self the  first  time  I  had  unwittingly  alluded  to  her 
father.  No  wonder  her  natural  communicative- 
ness halted  before  that  terrible  subject,  which  surely 
must  have  haunted  her  childish  recollection  like  a 
spectre,  and  no  wonder  too  that  Madame  Bielinska 
should  bear  the  reflection  of  an  undying  fright  in 
her  eyes ! 

" l  But  the  sequel  ? '  I  asked.  l  How  was  it 
cleared  up  ?  What  was  his  motive  ? ' 

" l  There  is  no  sequel,'  Madame  Kouska  told  me, 
1  and  the  only  explanation  is,  of  course,  that  he 


98  ONEYEAR 

went  suddenly  mad,  poor  man.  He  used  to  be 
very  gay  in  his  youth,  and  even  rather  wild,  but  in 
after  years  he  showed  symptoms  of  melancholy, 
and  grew  more  nervous  and  irritable  year  by  year.' 

" 4  Still  that  does  not  seem  to  explain  such  a  des- 
perate act,'  I  objected.  'Were  there  no  re- 
searches made  ? ' 

" 4  Oh,  yes,'  she  said,  4  but  there  was  nothing  to 
be  discovered,  except  that  the  friar  was  a  French- 
man, but  nobody  knew  him,  or  anything  of  him, 
nor  where  he  came  from  exactly,  and  beside,  there 
was  nobody  to  be  punished  for  the  murder,  since 
the  murderer  had  dealt  with  himself,  so  really  the 
authorities  had  no  further  cause  to  act.' 

" 4  And  his  friends  ?  '  I  asked,  t  did  they  also  ac- 
cept the  theory  of  the  madness  ? ' 

44  4  They  had  to.  Just  at  first  a  few  people  broke 
their  heads  over  it  and  expected  some  explanation 
to  follow,  but  when  time  passed  and  nothing  fol- 
lowed, they  began  to  be  of  the  opinion  of  every- 
body else.' 

44  4  Even  his  family  ? '  I  asked. 

44  Madame  Kouska  shrugged  her  shoulders.  4  Ap- 
parently even  his  family,'  she  said.  4The  dead 
monk  was  as  much  a  stranger  to  them  as  to  the 
rest  of  us.  Madame  Bielinska  herself  told  my 
husband  that  she  had  never  seen  his  face  before, 
and  by  all  accounts  it  was  not  a  face  to  be  easily 
forgotten — a  dark,  fiery  face,  with  piercing  black 


ONE      YEAR  99 

eyes,  and  a  coal-black  beard  just  beginning  to  be 
streaked  with  white.  Bazyli  said  to  me  then  that 
the  very  gesture  in  the  act  of  which  he  had  died 
somehow  gave  an  impression  of  quite  unusual 
mental  energy.' 

"  This  is  the  story,  Agnes,  but  somehow  I  feel 
my  doubts  as  to  their  theory,  and  have  been  trying 
to  build  myself  up  another.  Men  do  not  usually 
go  mad  quite  so  suddenly  as  this,  and  if  they  do, 
it  generally  is  not  strangers  they  go  for.  But  sup- 
posing that  monk  was  not  a  stranger  to  Pan 
Bielinski,  although  he  was  to  every  one  else  ? 
That  is  the  starting-point  of  my  theory.  One 
does  not  generally  discuss  excitedly  with  strangers, 
does  one  ?  He  was  a  Frenchman,  remember,  and 
Pan  Bielinski  had  spent  part  of  his  youth  in  Paris, 
and,  according  to  what  Madame  Kouska  tells  me, 
the  servants  all  received  the  impression  of  his  be- 
ing a  gentleman.  How  if  some  long-buried  ro- 
mance were  at  the  bottom  of  it  all  ?  May  these  two 
not  have  been  rivals  once  upon  a  time  ?  All  the 
circumstances  seem  to  point  to  some  bitter  grudge 
borne  by  Pan  Bielinski  against  his  chance  guest. 

"  Yet  other  theories  occurred  to  me  as  I  lay  wide- 
awake in  the  excellent  bed  to  which  Madame 
Kouska  conducted  me.  I  had  been  dropping  with 
sleep  after  supper,  but  the  picture  of  the  dead 
monk  and  of  his  murderer  had  effectually  banished  all 
traces  of  drowsiness,  and  so  I  amused  myself  by 


ioo  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

combining.  Yet,  on  the  whole,  my  first  theory 
seems  to  me  most  plausible,  and  I  mean  to  stick  to 
it  for  my  own  private  satisfaction.  Every  one  else 
seems  content  with  the  version  of  insanity,  but  I 
prefer  my  supposition.  Madame  Bielinska  never 
can  have  been  beautiful ;  let  us  say  that  Pan 
Bielinski's  marriage  was  one  *  of  reason,'  while 
the  real  attachment  of  his  life  had  Paris  for  its 
scene  and  was,  of  course,  of  an  unhappy  de- 
scription, the  disappointment  shadowing  all  his  life 
and  causing  the  melancholy  which  Madame 
Kouska  speaks  of;  that  the  subsequent  friar  was 
the  ci-devant  successful  rival,  who,  having  betrayed 
and  abandoned  the  object  of  their  mutual  passion, 
had  turned  into  a  repentant  sinner;  that  Bielinski, 
on  seeing  him  again  unexpectedly,  could  not  re- 
strain the  impulse  to  avenge  his  own  defeat  and  the 
girl's  dishonour. 

"  But  I  had  better  stop,  or  else  you  will  think  that 
my  imagination  is  bolting  with  me.  I  wonder  if 
the  truth  will  ever  be  known  ?  I  hardly  think  so. 
It  remains  for  me  only  to  wind  up  this  indecently 
long  scrawl  by  telling  you  that,  despite  both  the 
snowdrifts  and  Madame  Kouska's  constraining 
hospitality — and  it  was  as  difficult  to  get  away 
from  the  one  as  from  the  other — I  succeeded  in 
reaching  home  next  day,  and  was  relieved  to  find 
that  Anulka  had  managed  after  all  to  get  her  cigar- 
ette by  bribing  Marya  (with  a  holy  picture),  and 


ONE      YEAR  101 

was  none  the  worse  for  it.  I  must  confess  that  as 
we  drove  up  to  the  house  I  cast  a  glance  of  a 
quite  new  sort  of  interest  toward  the  spot  at  which 
I  knew  the  old  front  door  to  have  been,  and  whose 
condemnation  I  now  completely  understood.  To 
a  Polish  mind  the  thought  of  that  desecrated 
threshold,  stained  by  the  blood  of  the  departing 
guest,  must  always  remain  a  blot  of  ignominy. 
No  wonder  indeed  that  the  family  should  not  have 
been  able  to  make  up  its  mind  ever  again  to  cross 
it. 

"  My  candle  is  burning  down,  I  have  barely  light 
to  finish  by. 

"  Ever  your  affectionate 

"  ELEANOR." 


CHAPTER  VII 

MY  last  quoted  letter  to  Agnes  has  been  given 
without  either  selection  or  comment,  but,  of  course, 
it  does  not  exhaust  my  reflections  on  the  discovery 
I  had  made.  It  is  probable  that  the  details  of  Ma- 
dame Kouska's  story  would  have  kept  my  imagina- 
tion yet  easier  if  it  had  not  been  for  a  letter  which 
I  received  about  this  time  from  my  friend,  and  in 
which  she  mentioned  that  Henry  and  Lily  Somer- 
ville  were  going  to  spend  Christmas  in  the  same 
house.  Agnes  had  been  more  than  surprised,  she 
had  been  honestly  shocked  at  what  she  called  the 
"  barbarism "  of  the  act  which  had  separated  me 
from  my  lover,  and,  despite  my  stern  command 
never  lost  an  opportunity  of  keeping  me  informed 
of  what  was  going  on  at  home.  She  gave  me  this 
latest  news  with  a  tremour  of  desperation  which  I 
could  trace  in  her  very  handwriting.  "  There 
would  yet  be  time  for  you  to  be  back,"  she  added  ; 
"  if  you  give  up  your  situation  at  once  you  could 
still  spend  Christmas  with  us — and  naturally  so 
would  Henry." 

Of  course,  I  never  for  a  moment  contemplated 
acting  in  this  suggestion,  but  I  confess  that  the 
news  had  made  my  heart  beat  faster.  For  weeks 
102 


O  N  E      Y  E  A  R  103 

past  I  had  been  living  in  expectation  of  hearing 
that  the  engagement  was  accomplished  ;  I  had  been 
away  now  for  two  months ;  time  enough  for  the 
cure  to  have  worked.  Surely  the  moment  was  ap- 
proaching now.  To  judge  from  his  silence  Henry 
was  either  tired  of  me  or  angry  with  me,  and  I 
knew  the  opportunities  generally  afforded  by  a 
Christmas  party ;  it  was  far  better  so,  but  I  should 
feel  quieter  and  more  able  to  settle  to  my  work 
when  something  definite  had  happened. 

Here,  too,  Christmas  was  already  lying  in  the 
air,  but  a  different  sort  of  Christmas  from  any  I 
had  hitherto  known — one  in  which  holly  and  mis- 
tletoe played  no  part,  and  plum  pudding  and  mince 
pies  were  replaced  by  such  delicacies  as  fish  fried 
in  honey,  cold  almond  soup  and  cakes  filled  with 
chopped  cabbage.  The  memory  of  the  single 
Polish  Vilia  which  it  has  ever  been  my  fate  to  at- 
tend, remains  in  my  mind  as  a  sort  of  culinary 
nightmare,  sufficient  to  make  me  for  ever  after 
thankful  for  plain  food.  It  is  natural  that  the  prep- 
arations for  this  huge  feast  which,  in  that  part  of 
the  country,  was  still  conducted  after  the  most 
generously  patriarchal  style,  should  likewise  be 
huge,  and  perhaps  it  is  equally  natural  that  these 
vast  arrangements  should  be  used  by  the  young 
people  as  a  pretext  for  sociable  gatherings.  For 
generations  past  it  had  been  the  custom  here  for 
near  neighbours  to  lend  each  other  a  helping  hand 


104  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

on  occasions  of  this  sort.  There  was  a  certain 
amount  of  system  about  the  thing ;  each  house  in 
the  neighbourhood  having  one  day  that  was  fixed 
as  "  markday,"  on  which  any  one  who  had  time 
and  inclination  was  requested  to  step  in  and  spend 
the  afternoon  in  shelling  almonds  or  stoning  raisins 
in  company,  or  at  least  in  pretending  to  do  so,  for, 
of  course,  the  excellent  opportunities  for  flirtation 
afforded  by  these  simple  occupations  were  not  neg- 
lected, and  had  the  less  chance  of  being  so  among 
young  men  and  women  who  had  known  each  other 
since  their  babyhood. 

Needless  to  say  that  the  Ludniki  "  markday  " 
was  better  attended  than  any  other  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood ;  was  it  not  presided  over  by  Jadwiga  ? 
The  young  men  came  because  she  was  there,  and 
the  ladies  came  because  they  did  not  dare  to  leave 
them  entirely  to  her,  and  the  result  was  that  one 
dull  December  day  a  large  and  gay  society  found 
itself  assembled  in  the  big  space  adjoining  the 
kitchen,  which  generally  played  the  part  of  a  serv- 
ants' hall.  From  the  first  the  scene  was  a  lively 
one.  Having  peeled  themselves  out  of  their  furs, 
the  ladies  began  by  quarrelling  over  the  white  aprons 
distributed  for  the  protection  of  the  dainty  winter 
gowns,  for  although  every  one  was  regularly  re- 
quested to  come  in  their  worst  clothes,  no  one  ever 
had  the  abnegation  to  do  so.  Then  came  the  al- 
lotment of  occupations — a  wide  field  for  showing 


O  N  E      Y  E  A  R  105 

favour.  I  confess  I  was  rather  curious  as  to  how 
Jadwiga  would  exercise  her  authority.  Owing  first 
to  Anulka's  illness,  and  lately  to  Madame  Bielin- 
ska's  state  of  health,  which  anxiety  had  aggravated, 
there  had  been  next  to  no  visitors  in  the  house  for 
weeks  past.  Since  the  day  that  she  had  consulted 
me  as  to  her  choice  between  her  two  admirers  I 
had  not  seen  her  in  the  same  room  with  them,  and 
had  therefore  had  no  opportunity  of  judging  of 
whether  she  had  come  to  a  decision  or  not.  To- 
day my  doubts  were  to  be  put  at  rest. 

"  I  may  peel  the  almonds,  may  I  not  ?  "  Wladi- 
mir  had  asked  at  the  very  outset.  He  had  been 
among  the  first  arrivals,  and  had  looked  wonder- 
fully handsome  as  he  stepped  out  of  the  sledge,  his 
fair  cheek  brightly  flushed  with  the  cold  air  and 
half  buried  in  the  costly  fur  of  his  cloak.  "  You 
know  I  peeled  them  last  year,  and  I  am  sure  I  did 
it  well." 

"  I  know  why  Wladimir  wants  to  peel  the  al- 
monds," remarked  a  fair  and  fuzzy-haired  young 
lady,  one  of  a  pair  of  fair  and  fuzzy-haired  sisters, 
who  seemed  to  regard  the  whole  thing  as  one  vast 
opportunity  for  giggling ;  "  it's  because  the  almonds 
are  in  hot  water,  and  he  can  warm  his  finger-tips 
while  fishing  them  out ;  as  if  we  hadn't  all  got 
cold  fingers  !  Just  look  at  the  egoism  of  men  !  " 

"  Oh,  dear  me,  Pani  Jusia,  are  your  fingers 
really  cold  ?  "  asked  Wladimir,  with  most  sincere 


106  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

concern.  "  Then,  of  course,  I  waive  my  claim  to 
the  almonds.  Here  is  the  pot.  Pani  Jadwiga  will 
give  me  some  other  occupation ;  I  am  prepared  for 
anything." 

a  Even  to  grind  the  chocolate  ?  "  asked  the  sec- 
ond of  the  giggling  sisters.  "  You  know  it  makes 
the  fingers  brown,"  and  she  cast  a  half  admiring, 
half  mocking  glance  toward  Wladimir's  white, 
carefully  tended  hands. 

"  Even  to  grind  the  chocolate  or  to  pound  the 
pepper,  for  the  matter  of  that,"  said  Wladimir 
magnanimously.  "  I  know  that  none  of  the  ladies 
like  pounding  the  pepper  for  fear  of  getting  it  into 
their  eyes — well,  I  am  ready  to  do  it;  may  I,  Pani 
Jadwiga  ?  "  He  looked  round  him  with  the  air  of 
a  person  who  feels  that  he  is  doing  something  at 
least  creditable. 

"  No,"  laughed  Jadwiga,  "  we  shall  save  the 
pepper  for  somebody  more  tiresome  ;  it  will  be  an 
excellent  excuse  for  sending  him  into  a  corner  of 
the  room,  don't  you  see  ?  "  and  she  laughed  mis- 
chievously. "  Here,  you  can  help  me  to  peel  the 
apples  instead."  Apples  can  be  peeled  without  in- 
jury to  even  the  daintiest  fingers,  and  I  half  suspect 
my  lovely  Jadwiga  of  a  little  egoism  in  her  choice 
of  occupation,  for  she  certainly  watched  over  her 
exquisite  hands  as  a  mother  does  over  her  babes. 
At  her  words  Wladimir  had  flushed  with  pleasure. 
He  was  as  little  able  as  a  child  to  conceal  his  feel- 


O  N  E      Y  E  A  R  107 

ings,  and  gratification  at  the  compliment  implied 
now  shone  out  of  his  brown  eyes. 

In  a  few  minutes  more  every  one  was  occupied, 
more  or  less  strenuously,  around  a  long  deal  table, 
on  which  pyramids  of  raisins  and  almonds,  blocks 
of  chocolate,  and  whole  sugar  loaves  were  dis- 
posed. It  looked  verily  as  though  we  were  prepar- 
ing a  meal  for  an  army,  or,  at  least,  a  giant. 
Tongues  moved  of  course,  at  least  as  fast  as 
fingers,  and  seriousness  had  little  part  in  the  work ; 
were  there  not  the  clumsy  to  mark,  the  ignorant  to 
instruct,  and  the  greedy  to  unmask  ?  For,  of 
course,  despite  the  prospect  of  the  excellent  tea 
which  was  to  rest  the  labourers  from  their  toils, 
many  of  the  almonds  and  raisins  never  found  their 
way  into  the  vessels  destined  for  them,  and  a  handy 
lump  of  chocolate  frequently  proved  itself  to  be 
irresistible.  What  between  laughing  reprimands, 
feigned  anger,  and  mock  exclamations  of  distress, 
mingled  with  a  good  deal  of  giggling,  the  first  hour 
passed  in  a  very  lively  fashion. 

Our  number  had  swelled  to  close  upon  twenty, 
when,  after  a  longer  pause  than  hitherto,  another 
sledge  was  heard  driving  up  to  the  front  of  the 
house. 

"Who  can  it  be?"  asked  Wladimir;  "not 
Krysztof,  surely  ?  " 

"  Not  he  !  "  laughed  Jadwiga,  "  our  occupations 
are  far  too  frivolous  for  him.  I  remember  his 


io8  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

saying  last  year  that  we  were  only  playing  at 
work." 

But  it  was  Malewicz,  after  all.  As  he  entered 
the  room,  a  minute  later,  looking  somewhat 
pinched  about  the  eyes  and  mouth — for  he  had  no 
such  luxurious  fur  to  wrap  himself  in  as  had 
Wladimir — a  chorus  of  astonished  voices  greeted 
him. 

"  Can  it  be  possible  ?  " 

"You  have  actually  managed  to  tear  yourself 
away  from  your  threshing  machine  ?  " 

"  What !  another  holiday  ?  " 

"  You  don't  mean,  surely,  that  you,  too,  are  go- 
ing to  play  at  work  ?  "  asked  Jadwiga,  looking  at 
him  a  little  doubtfully,  as  though  not  quite  sure  of 
whether  or  not  she  was  glad  to  see  him. 

"  Playing  at  work  is  better  than  no  work  at  all," 
replied  Malewicz  quietly,  as  he  saluted  Jadwiga; 
"  and  just  now  there  is  nothing  waiting  for  me  at 
home." 

"  A  gracious  speech,  truly,"  said  Wladimir, 
honestly  aghast,  as  he  always  was  when  any  one 
fell  short  in  his  presence  of  the  highest  standard  of 
amiability. 

"  Pan  Malewicz  likes  to  be  ungracious,"  put  in 
Jadwiga,  possibly  a  little  piqued.  u  Don't  you 
know  that  he  considers  ungraciousness  to  be  his 
role,  and  cultivates  it  as  a  virtue  ?  Play  at  work  ? 
Oh,  yes,  there  is  nothing  to  prevent  you  doing  that. 


O  N  E      Y  E  A  R  109 

What  is  there  still  ?  Let  me  see — to  be  sure  the 
pepper  has  still  to  be  pounded.  It  is  warm  work, 
but  you  look  half  frozen  as  it  is.  It  will  be  the 
very  thing  for  you.  There  !  But  please  take  it  to 
the  window,  as  otherwise  it  will  be  flying  about 
and  getting  into  our  eyes." 

Malewicz,  who  knew  nothing  of  the  remarks 
lately  passed  concerning  the  pounding  of  this  very 
pepper,  resignedly  took  the  articles  handed  to  him 
and  retired  in  silence  to  the  window,  but  the  rest 
of  the  company  glanced  at  one  another  with  a  sort 
of  guilty  sense  of  understanding,  while  the  two 
fair-haired  sisters  burst  into  a  fresh,  but  somewhat 
subdued,  titter. 

A  little  later,  when  the  pepper  had  been  disposed 
of,  there  came  another  moment  likewise  calculated 
to  put  a  less  self-possessed  person  than  Malewicz 
somewhat  out  of  countenance. 

The  question  of  sifting  the  flour  had  been  raised 
— an  employment  which  likewise  did  not  range 
among  the  favourites,  in  view  of  the  possible  dis- 
figurement of  garments,  and  again  it  was  Wladimir 
who  offered  himself. 

"  I  would  do  it  in  a  moment,"  a  young  married 
woman  of  the  party  declared,  "  if  I  only  had  any 
other  dress  on  but  a  black  one — but,  flour  upon 
black,  you  know " 

Then  it  was  that  Wladimir  stepped  into  the 
breach. 


no  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

Jadwiga  looked  doubtfully  at  the  fine,  dark  cloth 
of  his  winter  suit.  Perhaps  she  was  reflecting  that 
it  would  be  a  pity  to  transform  the  fairy  prince  into 
a  miller's  lad. 

"  It  would  be  a  sin  to  spoil  that  coat,"  she  de- 
cided. "  You  would  need  at  least  to  put  something 
over  it." 

"Let's  dress  him  up  in  aprons!"  cried  the 
ladies  in  chorus,  delighted  at  this  new  pretext 
for  merriment.  "  He  would  look  delicious  as  a 
cook." 

"  No,  I  don't  think  he  needs  any  change,"  said 
Jadwiga  with  a  demure  little  smile.  "  Pan 
Malewicz,  you  are  done  with  the  pepper,  are  you 
not  ?  Do  you  mind  taking  the  flour  ?  I  fancy  it 
won't  make  much  difference  to  your  coat." 

I  looked  in  some  surprise  at  Jadwiga,  and  so 
did  Malewicz.  There  had  been  the  slightest  pos- 
sible stress  laid  on  the  your^  and  yet  enough  to 
make  all  eyes  turn  critically  from  the  contempla- 
tion of  the  one  coat  to  the  other.  Impossible  even 
in  a  cursory  glance  not  to  note  the  difference  of 
texture  and  condition,  the  intention  seemed  unmis- 
takable, but  it  was  unlike  Jadwiga,  and  shocked 
me,  almost  disappointed  me  in  her.  After  the  first 
moment  of  astonishment  Malewicz  quickly  recov- 
ered himself. 

"  You  are  right,"  he  said,  before  any  one  else 
had  spoken.  "  A  coat  that  has  swallowed  dust  and 


ONE      YE  AR 


drunk  mud  may  well  also  digest  a  little  flour  with- 
out harm  ;  "  and,  taking  the  sieve,  he  set  about  his 
task  in  an  almost  unnecessarily  energetic  fashion. 
This  time  none  of  the  ladies  saw  the  need  of  an 
apron,  and  only  the  good-natured  Wladimir  made 
suggestion  to  that  effect,  to  which  Malewicz,  re- 
plied with,  perhaps,  a  shade  of  bitterness:  — 

"  No,  thank  you,  I  don't  think  I  would  look  at 
all  delicious  as  a  cook."  Which  was  indeed  so 
true  that  the  mere  vision  of  his  tall,  gaunt  figure 
thus  equipped  set  the  tittering  sisters  off  once 
more. 

But  in  time  the  flour  was  sifted  as  the  pepper 
had  been  pounded,  and  Malewicz  joined  us  at  the 
table.  By  this  time  the  lamps  had  been  brought. 

"  And  now  for  a  story  !  "  cried  one  of  the  gen- 
tlemen. "The  stories  always  used  to  come  with 
the  lamps.  It's  the  bit  of  the  evening  I  like 
best." 

"  Is  it  to  be  a  funny  or  a  serious  story  ?  "  asked 
Jadwiga. 

"  Oh,  nothing  serious,  for  Heaven's  sake  !  "  im- 
plored the  majority  of  the  ladies  ;  "  rather  fairy 
tales  than  that." 

"  I  have  it  !  "  said  Jadwiga,  looking  in  my  direc- 
tion. "  We  needn't  have  fairy  tales  exactly,  but 
we  can  have  some  of  our  legends.  Miss  Middle- 
ton  was  just  saying  the  other  day  that  she  knows 
none  of  our  national  traditions.  Here  is  an  oppor- 


ii2  ONE      YEAR 

tunity  for  instructing  her.  Let  any  one  who  will 
come  out  with  the  tale  they  know  best,"  and  she 
smiled  at  me  down  the  length  of  the  table,  with 
that  irresistible  smile  of  hers  which  warmed  the 
heart  so  suddenly  by  giving  you  the  feeling  that 
even  .in  the  midst  of  more  brilliant  and  more  im- 
portant people  you  were  not  quite  forgotten. 

"  Filko  must  stop  pounding  the  sugar,"  decreed 
Jadwiga,  "  or  we  shall  not  be  able  to  hear." 

And  after  that  the  legends  began  for  my  benefit, 
told  by  most  of  the  company  in  turn — weird  and 
fantastic  tales  of  spirits  and  warnings  and  warlike 
deeds,  recounted  either  briefly  or  lengthily,  either 
flatly  or  brilliantly,  according  to  the  individuality 
of  the  narrator,  but  all  with  a  dash  of  poetry,  and 
many  with  the  ring  of  despair  about  them,  as  befits 
the  traditions  of  a  fallen  nation.  When  it  came  to 
Wladimir's  turn  he  told  the  story  of  the  vanished 
fern  blossom,  and  this  tale  I  remember  better  than 
any,  perhaps  because  of  the  remarks  that  passed 
concerning  it,  or  perhaps  because  of  the  way  it  was 
told,  for  Wladimir  proved  by  far  the  best  narrator 
of  the  company.  In  the  moment  that  he  was  pre- 
paring to  speak  and  while  all  eyes  turned  upon 
him,  it  was  evident  that  he  felt  thoroughly  in  his 
element.  Having  cast  a  glance  down  the  table  to 
assure  himself  that  the  attention  was  general,  and 
with  the  long,  snaky  apple  peelings  still  falling 
regularly  from  between  his  dexterous  fingers,  he 


ONE      YEAR  113 

began,  without  any  ostentation  but  only  a  sort  of 
modest  confidence  in  his  own  powers : — 

"  The  story  of  the  vanished  fern  blossom  is 
really  a  summer  story,  and  I  don't  know  how  it 
will  sound  with  a  lamp  on  the  table  and  snow  on 
the  ground,  but  I  will  try.  Well,  Miss  Middle- 
ton,"  and  he  turned  courteously  toward  me,  "  you 
know,  of  course,  that  ferns  do  not  blossom  nowa- 
days, and  yet  this  is  said  to  have  been  the  case  in 
times  long  past.  Here,  then,  is  the  way  that  we 
account  for  its  disappearance.  Many,  many  years 
ago  the  ferns  blossomed  with  us,  as  they  did  else- 
where, and  their  blossoms  were  quite  white  and 
very  beautiful,  as  white  as  the  heart  of  a  child,  or 
of  a  man  who  has  done  no  harm,  and  only  a  child, 
or  a  perfectly  good  man  or  woman  could  either  see 
it  or  gather  it,  for  this  flower  was  visible  on  one 
night  only  of  the  year,  and  was  guarded  by  many 
spirits  against  the  approach  of  man.  In  the  night 
of  mid-summer,  on  the  stroke  of  midnight,  the 
bud  opened,  and  who  ever,  being  good  and  pure, 
went  to  the  forest  alone  at  that  hour,  could  gather 
it — for  against  perfect  innocence  the  spirits  had 
no  power — and  having  gathered  it,  he  could,  by 
only  a  wish,  become  possessed  of  the  greatest 
riches  of  the  world,  which  nothing  could  again 
take  from  him  excepting  his  own  act.  And  on 
every  24th  of  June  it  happened  that  hundreds  of 
men  and  women  who  held  themselves  far  better 


ONE      YEAR 


than  they  were,  wandered  uselessly  through  the 
woods,  while  only  one  saw  the  flower,  or,  some- 
times, not  even  that  one,  because  even  he  was 
not  spotless  enough,  and  when  morning  came  the 
flower  had  vanished,  and  would  not  blossom  again 
for  a  year.  Well,  years  and  years  ago  there  lived 
a  little  peasant  lad,  whose  mother  had  so  little  to 
give  him  to  eat  that  she  sent  him  to  herd  the 
neighbours'  geese.  And  while  he  sat  for  hours  on 
the  wide  plain,  with  his  willow  wand  in  his  hand, 
he  would  wonder  in  his  mind  whether  there  would 
ever  come  a  time  when  he  should  have  enough  to 
eat,  and  whether  he  should  always  see  his  mother's 
eyes  red  with  weeping  at  night,  and  always  have  to 
watch  her  poor,  tottering  steps  moving  between 
the  fireplace  and  the  wood  heap,  and  her  poor, 
shaking  hands  striving  to  twirl  the  spindle. 
1  When  I  am  big  it  shall  not  be  so,'  he  said  to 
himself.  l  But  it  will  be  ten  years  before  I  am 
big,  and  she  will  die  before  then.'  And  he  began 
to  turn  over  in  his  small  head  all  the  ways  that 
people  had  of  getting  money  quickly,  but  could 
find  none.  At  last  some  one  told  him  the  story 
of  the  fern  blossom  which  makes  rich  in  an  hour, 
and  immediately  a  new  hope  sprung  up  in  his 
heart,  for  this  rosy-faced  little  lad  with  the  great, 
clear  eyes  had  never  done  harm  to  either  man  or 
beast,  and  scarcely  even  knew  the  name  of  evil." 
Wladimir  made  a  pause  here  in  order  to  ask  for 


O  NE      YE  A  R  115 

a  fresh  batch  of  apples.  As  he  glanced  round 
the  table  he  must  have  been  gratified  to  see  noth- 
ing but  attentive  faces.  They  had  all  heard  the 
legend  times  enough,  but  perhaps  not  told  so  well 
as  Wladimir  told  it,  and  not  in  his  sensitive, 
musical  voice.  At  any  rate,  they  all  listened  as 
though  the  story  was  as  new  to  them  as  to  me. 
With  his  youthful  face  and  frankly  childish  eyes, 
Wladimir  might  almost  have  stood  for  the  hero 
of  his  own  story,  grown  up  to  man's  estate,  and 
surely  this  sweet-tempered  and  obviously  kind- 
hearted  youth  had  done  no  more  harm  in  his  life 
than  the  little  peasant  lad. 

Presently  he  took  up  his  story. 

"  Over  at  the  end  of  the  plain  there  stood  a 
forest,  huge  and  dark,  through  which  few  paths 
led,  where  the  ground  was  tangled  with  ferns  and 
high  grasses  and  strewn  with  rude  blocks  of  rock. 
There  the  boy  resolved  to  go  on  the  next  mid- 
summer night.  He  had  never  been  there  before, 
but  he  was  not  afraid,  or  if  he  was  afraid  he  had 
only  to  think  of  his  mother's  red  eyelids  in  order 
to  get  courage.  The  time  came  at  last,  and  he 
crept  from  the  hut  and  ran  across  the  plain  which 
the  moonlight  made  as  light  as  day,  and  plunged 
at  last  into  the  big  forest  where  it  was  as  dark  as  a 
cellar,  for  here  the  moonlight  could  not  reach  the 
ground.  And  before  he  had  gone  a  hundred  paces 
he  saw  the  flower  shining  like  a  lamp  in  the  black- 


u6  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

ness,  and  he  climbed  the  rock  on  whose  crest  it 
grew,  and  in  another  minute  it  was  his.  He  fell 
asleep  then,  tired  with  running,  and  with  all  sorts 
of  confused  wishes  on  his  lips  and  in  his  heart,  and 
next  morning,  when  he  awoke,  he  was  resting  on  a 
velvet  couch  in  a  palace,  and  the  attendants  who 
flocked  round  him  told  him  that  he  was  richer  than 
any  man  in  the  world.  After  he  had  begun  to  be- 
lieve, his  first  thought  was  his  mother.  He  would 
have  run  off  to  fetch  her  instantly,  but  his  servants 
held  him  back.  The  riches  were  his,  they  told 
him,  but  only  his  alone,  in  the  moment  that  he  at- 
tempted to  share  them  with  any  one,  and  be  it 
even  his  mother,  they  would  vanish  like  dew.  He 
had  not  heard  that  part  of  the  story  before,  and 
when  he  heard  it  now,  he  sat  down  on  the  floor  of 
the  room  and  wept,  and  wept,  and  would  not  be 
consoled.  *  It  was  for  my  mother  that  I  wanted  it 
all,'  he  said  sobbing.  c  What  use  is  it  to  me  if  I 
cannot  give  it  to  her  ?  '  c  Your  mother  is  old,'  they 
told  him ;  *  she  has  one  foot  in  the  grave  already — 
let  her  die  in  peace  as  she  has  lived,  and  enjoy 
what  Fate  has  given  you.'  But  he  only  wept  the 
more,  and  said  he  would  take  a  sack  of  gold  to  her 
that  very  day.  *  Do  so,  if  you  like,'  they  said, 
1  but  when  you  open  the  sack  there  will  be  nothing 
in  it  but  rotten  wood,  and  when  you  come  back  to 
your  palace  you  will  find  a  heap  of  stones.  You 
will  be  as  poor  as  before,  and  so  will  your  mother. 


ONE      YEAR  117 

What  good  will  that  do  her  then  ?  While  now,  at 
least,  she  is  quit  of  all  anxiety  on  your  behalf.' 
Although  the  boy  would  not  listen,  he  could  not 
help  hearing,  and  by  degrees  the  words  found  their 
way  into  his  mind  and  he  began  to  tell  himself  that 
it  was  true,  that  by  ruining  himself  he  would  not 
be  helping  her.  Then  he  set  to  work  to  enjoy  his 
riches,  and  for  a  time  he  succeeded,  but  when  he 
had  got  used  to  eating  his  fill,  something  would 
take  hold  of  him  and  draw  him  out  of  his  palace 
and  across  the  plain  to  the  hut,  and  would  make 
him  look  in  at  the  little  square  window  to  see  what 
his  mother  was  doing.  She  was  always  either 
weeping  by  the  fire  or  turning  her  spindle  sadly  by 
the  table,  but  never  did  he  find  courage  to  lift  the 
latch,  for  he  was  ashamed  somehow  to  bring  his 
silken  clothes  into  that  mud  hut.  And  each  time 
he  went  back  vowing  that  he  would  give  up  all  his 
splendour  and  return  to  be  poor  with  her,  and 
never  did  he  do  it,  for  he  had  got  used  to  soft  liv- 
ing and  could  not  make  up  his  mind  to  rob  himself 
by  his  own  act.  Yet,  despite  all  his  riches,  he 
grew  unhappier  day  by  day.  One  day,  at  last, 
when  he  looked  into  the  hut,  his  mother  was  not 
sitting  either  by  the  fire  or  by  the  table ;  she  was 
lying  on  the  bed  with  her  hands  crossed,  and  two 
candles  burning  at  her  feet.  Then  he  knew  that 
it  was  too  late  to  go  back  to  her,  and,  throwing 
himself  on  the  ground,  he  tore  his  silken  clothes, 


n8  O  NE      Y  E  A  R 

and  then,  rushing  back  across  the  plain,  he  clam- 
bered up  the  very  rock  on  which  he  had  gathered 
the  white  flower,  and  springing  off  it,  dashed  out 
his  brains  against  its  foot,  and  in  that  same  moment 
the  palace  melted  into  air  with  all  the  attendants, 
and  from  that  moment  no  fern  has  ever  blossomed 
again.  The  flower  had  cost  the  life  of  a  man,  and 
therefore  it  was  condemned  to  be  blotted  out  of  the 
world  forever." 

Wladimir,  carried  away  by  his  theme,  had  ended 
with  a  certain  emotion  in  his  vibrating  voice. 
There  was  a  short  silence  after  he  had  done  speak- 
ing, but  the  first  remark,  made  somewhat  rudely, 
disturbed  the  dreamy  mood  that  had  settled  on  the 
company.  It  was  Malewicz  who  spoke. 

"I  think  that  boy  was  a  fool,"  he  observed, 
with  something  harsh  in  his  voice. 

Every  one  looked  at  him  in  surprise. 

"  Why  ? "  asked  several  of  the  ladies  together. 

"  Because  he  did  not  know  what  he  wanted. 
Either  he  could  bear  to  look  on  while  his  mother 
starved,  or  else  he  could  not.  If  yes,  then  he 
ought  to  have  got  the  most  out  of  his  money  ;  and 
if  not,  he  should  have  let  his  palace  go  to  dust  on 
the  first  day,  without  all  that  fuss  about  it." 

"  Surely  nobody  can  really  bear  to  see  his  mother 
starve  ?  "  began  Wladimir,  but  Malewicz  almost 
roughly  interrupted  him  : 

"  Why  not  ?  "  he  said  with  a  sort  of  deliberate 


O  N  E      Y  E  A  R  119 

and  ostentatious  callousness,  which  did  not  quite 
convince  while  yet  it  shocked.  "  It  is  all  a  matter 
of  habit,  I  assure  you,  and  it  all  depends  upon  the 
price  that  is  asked." 

A  little  indignation  was  now  mingling  with  the 
astonishment  in  the  eyes  turned  upon  him.  Com- 
ing from  the  lips  of  a  man  who  himself  had  a 
mother — not  exactly  in  the  position  of  the  mother 
in  the  legend,  but,  nevertheless,  within  measurable 
distance  of  it — the  remark  sounded  unnecessarily 
brutal.  I  confess  that  I  felt  as  much  astonished  at 
him  as  I  had  felt  a  little  while  ago  at  Jadwiga. 
She  herself  was  obviously  indignant. 

"  Surely  this  is  carrying  ungraciousness  just  one 
point  too  far,"  she  said,  with  a  flash  of  beautiful 
anger  in  her  eyes.  "  I  think  you  might  speak  dif- 
ferently of  your  mother." 

"Perhaps  I  might,"  he  answered  immediately, 
looking  her  hard  in  the  face  as  he  spoke, "  and  per- 
haps, also,  I  might  have  acted  differently  toward 
her.  I  am  not  defending  my  filial  conduct,  but 
only  maintaining  that,  under  similar  circumstances,  I 
would  have  known  my  mind  better  than  did  that 
young  man  in  the  story." 

The  discussion  evidently  threatened  to  become 
too  serious  for  the  occasion,  and,  but  for  the  timely 
interference  of  Wladimir — Wladimir  always  did 
and  said  the  right  thing  at  the  right  moment — who 
began  earnestly  demanding  some  instructions  with 


120  ONE      YEAR 

regard  to  the  apples  he  had  peeled,  a  shadow  would 
probably  have  settled  on  the  humour  of  the  com- 
pany. In  this  way,  however,  the  subject  was  for- 
gotten in  a  few  minutes,  and  the  rest  of  the  even- 
ing passed  off  smoothly  and  gaily — so  gaily,  in 
fact,  that  nothing  but  the  thought  that  it  was  Ad- 
vent prevented  its  ending  in  a  dance. 

That  night  in  my  room  I  said  to  Jadwiga  a  little 
reproachfully, "  What  was  the  matter  with  you  this 
afternoon  ?  I  have  never  seen  you  like  that  be- 
fore. You  seem  to  have  made  a  regular  task  of 
snubbing  that  poor  man  at  every  turn." 

"  Malewicz  ?  "  she  asked,  laughing.  "  Why,  I 
was  only  following  your  advice.  Don't  you  re- 
member telling  me  that  it  would  be  unnecessary 
cruelty  to  keep  up  his  hopes  ?  " 

"That  means,  then,  that  you  have  made  your 
choice  ?  "  I  asked,  with  a  little  unaccountable  dis- 
appointment. But  Jadwiga  only  laughed  and  dis- 
appeared into  her  room  with  shining  eyes. 

I  did  not  require  an  answer ;  the  events  of  the 
afternoon  had  been  amply  sufficient  to  tell  me  that, 
like  a  true  woman  as  she  was,  she  had  taken  the 
exact  reverse  of  the  advice  I  had  given  her. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE  weeks  that  followed  were  in  their  main 
features  a  reflection  of  the  afternoon  described  in 
the  last  chapter,  inasmuch  as  in  a  hundred  ways 
they  marked  the  progress  of  Wladimir  in  Jadwiga's 
favour,  and  the  defeat  of  Malewicz.  Once  hav- 
ing made  up  her  mind  Jadwiga  had  thrown  herself 
into  her  new  part  with  all  the  unregulated  ardour 
of  her  temperament,  and  scarcely  an  evening  now 
passed  without  my  having  to  listen  to  glowing 
eulogies  on  her  elected  hero,  for  she  belonged  to 
those  excessively  open  natures  who,  in  order  to 
taste  their  emotions  to  the  full,  require  to  share 
them  with  another. 

u  Do  you  not  think  he  is  as  perfect  a  lover  as 
any  one  has  a  right  to  expect  ?  "  she  would  ask  me. 
"  Each  time  I  see  him  he  seems  to  me  handsomer, 
and  he  is  not  only  beautiful,  he  is  good  too ;  I  am 
sure  he  has  never  done  any  harm  in  his  life." 

"  I  don't  think  he  has  ever  done  anything  in  his 
life,"  I  replied,  "  either  harm  or  the  reverse.  He 
has  scarcely  had  time,  for  the  matter  of  that.  He 
seems  to  me  like  an  unwritten  page,  still  waiting 
for  its  stamp." 

"  Nothing  but  noble  things  could  be  written  on 
121 


122  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

so  fair   a  page,"  said  Jadwiga,  with  characteristic- 
ally frank  enthusiasm. 

Sometimes  I  was  pushed  to  remonstrate  with 
her,  as  I  had  done  on  the  evening  of  the  Christ- 
mas u  markday."  Because  she  had  finally  lost  her 
heart  to  Wladimir  seemed  to  me  no  adequate  rea- 
son for  slighting  his  unsuccessful  rival  at  every 
turn.  In  a  person  whose  true  goodness  of  heart  I 
had  instinctively  felt  convinced  of  from  the  first 
this  show  of  unkindness  continued  to  puzzle  and 
pain  me.  No  opportunity  was  lost  of  placing 
Malewicz  himself  or  his  acts  in  the  most  unfav- 
ourable light  possible,  and  of  throwing  upon  his 
gaunt  and  somewhat  uncouth  figure  as  much  ridi- 
cule as  would  stick — and  this  both  in  his  presence 
and  out  of  it.  His  very  horses  and  his  very 
clothes  were  made  to  serve  the  occasion,  although 
if  she  had  but  taken  time  to  reflect  I  know  she 
would  have  shrunk  with  horror  from  the  idea  of 
throwing  up  his  poverty — even  indirectly — in  his 
face.  But  Jadwiga  was  always  more  given  to  im- 
pulse than  to  reflection,  and  never  having  tasted 
poverty  she  probably  did  not  realise  its  bitterness. 
More  than  once  I  took  up  the  defence  of  the  at- 
tacked man,  as,  for  instance,  on  one  occasion, 
when  a  collection  was  being  made  for  some  charity, 
to  which  most  of  the  proprietors  in  the  neighbour- 
hood subscribed  largely,  Malewicz  was  almost  the 
only  one  who  refused  point  blank. 


O  N  E      YE  A  R  123 

"  If  I  gave  you  a  florin,"  he  said,  "  it  would  be 
the  same  as  if  I  gave  you  nothing,  and  a  larger 
sum  I  cannot  afford  to  give." 

"  Not  even  for  the  sick  children  ?  "  asked  Jad- 
wiga  indignantly. 

"Not  even  for  the  sick  children,"  said  Male- 
wicz,  colouring  faintly,  yet  without  lowering  his 
eyes.  "  You  must  remember  that  charity  begins 
at  home,"  and  he  tried  to  smile. 

"  The  close-handed  wretch,"  said  Jadwiga  to  me 
that  evening  after  his  departure;  " every  one  is 
subscribing.  Wladimir  is  even  putting  off  buying 
a  new  horse  in  order  to  make  his  subscription 
larger." 

"  Wladimir  knows  that  he  will  get  his  horse  in 
time  all  the  same,"  I  remarked,  "  while  Malewicz 
probably  needs  the  money  for  more  pressing  things 
than  riding-horses." 

Another  time — Carnival  had  come  then — it  was 
his  ignorance  of  the  Mazur  step  which  filled  her 
with  indignation,  almost  contempt. 

"  You  call  yourself  a  Pole  ?  "  she  asked,  in  cold 
amazement.  "  A  Pole  who  cannot  dance  Mazur  ! 
Is  there  such  a  thing  ?  " 

"  When  should  I  have  learnt  it  ?  "  asked  Male- 
wicz. "  While  I  was  ploughing  my  fields  ?  " 

"  Other  people  plough  their  fields,  too,"  she  re- 
torted, "  and  yet  they  find  time  to  cultivate  other 
arts  besides  those  of  the  farmer." 


i24  O  N  E      YE  A  R 

"  I  know  they  do,"  said  Malewicz,  with  his 
usual  grave  self-possession,  which  under  ail  the 
moral  needle-pricks  she  was  continually  administer- 
ing, never  quite  deserted  him,  just  as  his  patience 
never  seemed  quite  to  give  way.  "There  have 
always  been  people  who  find  time  for  everything, 
even  for  playing  at  revolutions  and  running  after 
national  myths." 

There  was  a  general  chorus  of  disapproval,  in 
which  Jadwiga's  voice  was  only  one  of  many. 

u  Playing  at  revolutions  !     National  myths  !  " 

"  You  do  not  mean  surely  that  you  call  our  glo- 
rious campaign  of  '63  a  game  ?  "  asked  Wladimir, 
colouring  with  excitement.  "  That  it  ended  in 
disaster  is  no  argument  ;  we  proved  with  our 
blood  that  we  were  in  earnest." 

"  I  will  not  call  it  a  game  if  you  object  to  the 
term,"  said  Malewicz  unmoved,  "  but  rather  a 
piece  of  childishly  naive  romance,  badly  organised, 
foolishly  undertaken,  and  doomed  from  the  first  to 
failure." 

A  fresh  chorus  of  dissent. 

"  Badly  organised,  when  everything  had  been 
prepared  for  years  !  " 

"  Talked  about  for  years,  you  mean,"  corrected 
Malewicz,  "  not  prepared.  We  are  always  much 
greater  at  talking  than  acting.  All  our  leaders  to- 
gether had  not  as  much  as  a  pinch  of  practical  sense 
among  them.  How  else  can  you  explain  it  that, 


O  N  E      Y  E  A  R  125 

while  the  suppliers  of  the  army  were  disputing  as 
to  whether  the  loaves  for  the  rations  were  to  be 
baked  round  or  oblong,  our  soldiers  should  be  starv- 
ing for  want  of  bread  ?  " 

"  An  accident,"  said  some  one,  with  a  pictur- 
esque sweep  of  the  arm.  u  They  were  heroes,  all 
the  same." 

"  Heroes,  perhaps,  but  they  were  not  organisers, 
and  not  politicians  either,  or  they  never  would  have 
started  that  bloody  and  useless  dance." 

"  And  if  the  call  came  again  you  would  not  an- 
swer to  it  ?  "  asked  Wladimir,  measuring  his  rival 
with  beautifully  flaming  eyes.  "  You  would  not 
be  ready  to  shed  your  last  drop  of  blood  for  our 
unhappy  mother  country  ?  " 

"  Not  as  matters  stand  now,"  replied  Malewicz 
calmly.  "  Besides,  I  know  that  my  blood  would 
do  her  far  more  harm  than  good.  Poland  is  dead, 
and  all  the  mistakes  we  make  come  from  imagin- 
ing that  she  is  only  asleep.  It  is  best,  surely,  to 
look  the  truth  in  the  face.  We  have  been  tried  as 
a  nation  and  have  failed,  and  if  we  ever  become  a 
nation  again  it  will  only  be  because  we  ourselves 
have  become  different  men.  Just  as  a  future  Po- 
land could  only  be  a  quite  different  Poland  from 
the  past — a  Poland  in  which  we  have  learnt  to 
work,  rather  than  to  dream  and  talk.  But  we  are 
not  ready  yet,  not  for  a  long  time  yet,  and  there- 
fore I  mean  to  work  instead  of  dreaming,  as  be- 


126  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

comes  a  loyal  subject  of  the  Emperor  Francis 
Joseph." 

He  looked  steadily  round  the  circle  as  he  spoke 
and  met  nothing  but  inimical  glances.  At  the 
sound  of  the  last  word  there  was  a  restless  move- 
ment in  the  company,  and  something  was  mur- 
mured between  more  than  one  set  of  teeth,  but 
I  cannot  vouch  for  its  having  been  a  blessing. 
There  was  not  much  more  said  ;  perhaps  the  pres- 
ence of  a  stranger  acted  as  a  restraint,  but  all  drew 
themselves  coldly  away  from  Malewicz,  who  for 
the  rest  of  the  evening  remained  well-nigh  isolated. 

"  He  has  neither  spirit  nor  enthusiasm,"  said 
Jadwiga  to  me  afterward.  "  I  am  ashamed  of 
such  a  countryman." 

"  I  confess  I  rather  admire  his  moral  courage," 
I  replied.  "  It  certainly  required  some  pluck  to 
confess  his  opinions  in  the  face  of  such  nationalists 
as  your  neighbours  seem  to  be." 

But  Jadwiga  would  not  hear  a  word  in  his 
favour  and  treated  him,  if  possible,  more  coldly 
than  before,  and  whenever  I  ventured  to  protest, 
threw  up  my  own  words  in  my  face  and  told  me 
that  surely  it  was  kinder  to  show  him  plainly  that 
he  had  nothing  to  hope  for.  I  have  often  puzzled 
over  her  conduct  at  this  time,  and  have  looked  for 
an  explanation  of  it,  and  in  part,  I  believe  I  have 
found  it.  It  sounds  paradoxical,  but  I  believe  that 
it  was  her  very  intrinsic  kindness  which  was  at  the 


ONE      YEAR  127 

root  of  her  outward  cruelty.  Of  course  all  that 
about  crushing  his  hopes  was  nonsense,  but  I  fancy 
that  what  she  was  trying  to  do  was  to  harden  her 
own  heart  against  him,  for  she  could  not  but  be 
aware  that  he  loved  her  deeply.  The  thought  of 
what  he  would  suffer  when  she  gave  her  hand  to 
Wladimir  must  have  oppressed  her  even  in  the 
midst  of  her  own  bliss,  and  it  was  the  effort  to 
throw  off  this  oppression  that  led  her  to  try  and 
kill  the  pity  within  her  by  every  means  that  came 
to  hand.  The  easiest  way  would,  of  course,  have 
been  if  she  could  have  succeeded  in  convincing 
herself  that  he  was  not  worth  sparing,  that  she 
despised  him,  instead  of  compassionating  him — 
thence  the  constant  endeavour  to  turn  him  into 
ridicule.  And  just  because,  despite  all  her  efforts, 
he  would  not  become  ridiculous,  and  because  at 
the  bottom  of  her  heart  she  was  forced  to  esteem 
him — just  because  of  this  did  she  feel  incensed 
against  him.  It  is  a  complicated  train  of  thought 
to  follow  up,  but  it  tallies  with  all  that  I  fi^er  got 
to  know  of  Jadwiga.  It  is  possible,  also,  that  the 
hope  of  disgusting  him  with  herself,  and  thus  sti- 
fling his  passion,  may  have  influenced  her,  but  of 
this  I  feel  less  convinced,  being  a  sort  of  motive  I 
do  not  readily  believe  in. 

Meanwhile  Wladimir  had  not  yet  spoken,  but 
there  could  be  no  doubt  of  his  sentiments.  In- 
deed, he  had  on  more  than  one  occasion  confided 


ii8  O  N  E      YE  A  R 

them  to  me  with  childish  openness.  My  position 
was,  in  fact,  rather  comical  and  exceedingly  deli- 
cate, placed  thus  between  the  two  lovers,  with  an 
ear  open,  as  it  were,  on  either  side,  to  their  re- 
spective hopes  and  sighs,  but  I  was  beginning  to 
get  broken  in  to  my  role  of  confidante ;  after  all,  it 
was  about  all  that  I  was  good  for  now.  It  is  true 
that  the  Christmas  party  had  passed  off  without 
Henry  having  proposed  to  Lily  Somerville,  but  that 
could  not  alter  my  own  position.  If  not  this  time 
it  would  be  another  time,  and  if  not  her  it  would 
be  another.  All  I  had  to  do  now  was  to  forget 
that  I  had  ever  dreamt  of  founding  a  home  of  my 
own,  and  to  try  and  seek  happiness  in  the  happiness 
of  younger  and  luckier  people  than  myself. 

It  seemed  difficult  to  doubt  Jadwiga's  coming 
happiness,  and  yet  there  were  moments  in  which 
it  was  borne  in  upon  me  that  she  had  in  her  a 
wonderful  capacity  for  being  unhappy.  A  streak 
of  melancholy,  a  shade  of  gloom  had  found  its  way 
into  her  imaginative  mind,  and  would  occasionally 
break  out  without  any  apparent  reason.  I  have 
often  thought  that  her  father's  terrible  end  was  an- 
swerable for  this  incongruity  in  her  otherwise  joy- 
ous disposition.  The  memory  of  that  awful  day 
must  have  returned  to  her  at  moments  irresistibly. 
Diving  into  my  recollections  I  come  upon  one  day 
in  especial  which  revealed  to  me  this  side  of  her 
character.  It  was  a  gloomy  day  toward  the  end 


O  N  E      Y  E  A  R  129 

of  winter,  with  snow  still  on  the  ground,  but  no 
longer  the  spotless  mantle  of  yore.  Footsteps  of 
every  sort,  human  and  animal,  now  defaced  its 
original  whiteness.  In  the  yard  and  in  the  park 
every  beast  could  be  traced — there  was  the  deep, 
small  hole  of  the  hare,  the  flat  print  of  the  goose, 
the  more  intricate  mark  of  the  canine  paw ;  while 
outside,  upon  the  plain,  the  beautiful,  white  mantle 
was  striped  in  all  directions  with  sledge  marks, 
turned  into  slides  before  every  hut,  and  defaced 
with  the  black  of  its  smoke.  A  tattered  and  soiled 
mantle,  truly,  and  time  it  was  either  to  renew  it  or 
to  doff  it.  It  was  to  be  doffed  apparently,  for 
to-day  the  thaw  was  at  work.  The  slush  was 
such  as  to  baffle  even  my  walking  powers,  and  ac- 
cordingly I  had  taken  refuge  in  my  embroidery, 
while  Jadwiga  retired  to  the  piano.  She  and  I 
were  alone  in  the  big  drawing-room.  To-day  it 
was  nothing  but  melancholy  airs  which  she  chose, 
principally  Russian  Dumkas,  and  when  she  spoke 
it  was  only  to  ask  me  whether  I  did  not  find  that 
music  was  meant  to  express  sadness  far  more  than 
joy.  Finally  she  glided  into  Chopin's  funeral 
march.  I  had  heard  her  play  it  before,  but  never 
with  such  deep  emotion,  I  might  say  conviction, 
as  to-day.  When  the  last  note  had  sounded  she 
turned  toward  me  where  I  sat  in  the  window  em- 
brasure, trying  to  catch  the  fading  light  on  my 
work. 


i3o  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

"I  understand  that  so  perfectly,"  she  said,  as 
though  continuing  a  discussion,  "  do  not  you  ?  " 

"  How  do  you  mean  ?" 

"  Chopin's  idea ;  it  is  so  easy  to  follow — or 
rather  there  are  three  ideas,  quite  distinct  from 
each  other.  The  first  is  simply  sadness ;  deep  and 
dreadful  mournfulness ;  heavy,  heavy  tears — you 
can  hear  them  in  the  chords  of  the  first  passage," 
and  she  struck  them  softly  as  she  spoke.  "Then, 
out  of  the  midst  of  the  sadness  break  the  cries  of 
despair,  almost  of  rebellion,  but  only  for  a  mo- 
ment; the  dull  sadness  comes  back  again.  All 
this  is  in  the  first  movement.  In  the  second  there 
comes  the  first  breath  of  resignation.  Could  any- 
thing be  more  peaceful  and  more  holy,  more  like  a 
soothing  hand  laid  on  a  burning  wound  than  this 
passage  ? " 

"  You  are  right,"  I  said,  as  I  listened  with  de- 
light, letting  my  work  drop  to  my  lap.  "  To  hear 
that  is  almost  to  make  one  submit  to  anything  ; 
but  I  am  curious  how  you  are  going  to  explain  the 
finale.  I  have  never  been  able  to  understand  what 
Chopin  meant  there ;  that  wild,  breathless,  con- 
fused movement  seems  to  me  much  more  like  a 
sort  of  insane  dance  than  the  termination  of  a 
funeral  march." 

"  I  understand  that,  too,"  said  Jadwiga.  "  Oh, 
I  understand  quite  well  what  he  had  in  his 
thoughts.  He  has  followed  the  funeral  in  mind 


ONE      YEAR  131 

all  the  time ;  he  has  reached  the  churchyard  ;  the 
coffin  has  been  lowered ;  the  clods  of  earth  have 
fallen  upon  it ;  the  prayers  are  said ;  all  the  train 
of  mourners  is  gone  ;  and  now  the  dead  are  alone, 
and  from  the  forest  the  wind  comes  sweeping  and 
brings  with  it  a  swarm  of  dead  leaves  to  whirl  and 
turn  and  dance  round  the  newly-made  grave,  and 
to  smother  the  fresh  flowers  that  have  been  laid 
there." 

Jadwiga  had  risen  from  her  place  by  the  piano, 
and  was  now  standing  beside  me,  but  looking  be- 
yond me  through  the  darkening  window  with  fixed, 
heavy  eyes,  as  though  she  were  gazing  on  the 
vision  which  her  own  words  had  conjured  up.  At 
moments  like  this  I  felt  sure  she  was  thinking  of 
her  father,  and  perhaps  living  through  in  mind  the 
impressions  of  the  days  that  had  followed  the 
catastrophe.  It  was  at  these  times  of  spasmodic 
sadness,  too,  that  the  likeness  to  the  portrait  of  her 
dead  parent  came  out  most  strongly,  for  his 
handsome  face  bore  a  certain  shadow  of  gloom  and 
care  upon  it.  Since  I  had  learnt  his  history  I  did 
not  like  to  note  this  resemblance ;  whether  he  were 
criminal  or  only  insane  I  felt  a  reluctance  to  ac- 
knowledge that  Jadwiga  could  be  his  daughter  by 
anything  but  physical  accident. 

As  regards  the  question  of  his  sanity  and  of  my 
self-made  theories,  although  I  pondered  upon  them 
frequently  during  these  months,  I  only  once  had 


132  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

an  opportunity  of  discussing  the  question  with  an- 
other, on  which  occasion  I  discovered  that  I  was 
not  the  only  person  who  doubted  the  accuracy  of 
the  general  assumption.  This  other  person  was 
Malewicz,  and  it  was  under  the  cover  of  dance 
music,  and  while  many  gay  couples  were  filing 
past  us  in  the  Mazur,  that  our  remarks  on  the  sub- 
ject passed.  This  was  not  at  Ludniki  but  at 
Krasno,  the  Lewickis'  residence,  in  whose  hand- 
some apartments  all  the  society  of  the  neighbour- 
hood had  assembled  one  day  soon  after  Easter, 
which  was  especially  early  that  year,  in  order  to 
celebrate  the  feast  day  of  old  Pan  Lewicki,  Wladi- 
mir's  father.  Never  had  Wladimir  been  in  fuller 
glory  than  to-day.  To  see  him  standing  on  the 
doorstep  of  the  house,  with  the  spring  sunshine 
gleaming  on  the  satin  of  his  doublet,  and  flashing 
back  from  the  jewels  of  his  belt — for,  in  honour 
of  his  ultra-national  parent,  he  had  to-day  thrown 
himself  into  the  national  costume — was  in  itself  a 
treat  to  any  eye  open  to  artistic  effects.  It  may 
have  been  a  trifle  theatrical,  but  there  could  be  no 
doubt  about  its  being  successful.  To-day  he  was 
a  fairy-tale  prince  indeed,  not  only  in  form  and 
feature,  but  in  every  point  of  his  attire.  How 
should  I  blame  Jadwiga  for  loving  him  ?  A  far 
colder  fancy  than  hers  might  well  have  been  fired 
by  this  picture,  which  to  such  sober  eyes  as  mine 
was  almost  too  dazzling.  And  then,  what  supple- 


ONE      YEAR  133 

ness  of  movement,  what  charm  of  manner  in  the 
task  of  receiving  guest  after  guest,  and  conducting 
them  to  the  presence  of  his  handsome  giant  of  a 
father,  who,  being  rheumatic,  feared  to  expose 
himself  to  the  chilly  spring  air.  From  beginning 
to  end  it  was  Wladimir  who  was  the  soul  of  the 
entertainment. 

At  Krasno  things  were  conducted  on  a  far  more 
lavish  scale  than  at  Ludniki ;  and,  as  a  matter  of 
course,  some  excellent  music  had  been  procured, 
so  that,  after  several  sumptuous  meals,  the  evening 
ended  in  the  only  appropriate  way  for  a  Polish 
feast  day  to  end.  Then  it  was  that  Malewicz  and 
I  came  to  be  thrown  into  each  other's  society.  At 
first  he  did  not  trouble  himself  to  speak  much  ; 
this  was  not  the  first  time  that  we  two  had  figured 
as  lookers-on,  and  he  had  got  to  understand  that  I 
respected  his  silences;  perhaps  he  even  then  al- 
ready vaguely  guessed  at  my  sympathy,  without 
having  ever  appealed  to  it.  To-day,  for  the  first 
time,  he  indirectly  alluded  to  his  paramount 
thought. 

"Those  two  will  make  a  wonderful  pair,"  he 
said,  after  a  time,  in  a  tone  of  artificial  unconcern 
which,  I  think,  was  scarcely  meant  to  deceive. 
His  eyes  rested  as  he  spoke  on  Jadwiga  and  Wladi- 
mir, leading  the  column  of  dancers  down  the 
length  of  the  long  room.  Dressed  in  a  pale  blue 
silk  which  clung  to  her  knee  at  each  gliding  step, 


134-  ONE      YEAR 

allowing  the  wonderfully  narrow  foot  to  appear  be- 
neath the  hem,  her  face  animated  by  the  congenial 
movement,  her  white  teeth  flashing  as  she  turned 
toward  her  partner,  Jadwiga  was  to-day  trium- 
phantly beautiful.  There  were  many  imitation 
Jadwigas  in  the  room,  many  women  that  were 
good-looking  in  the  same  style,  only  in  another 
degree,  for  dark  hair  and  white  teeth,  and  lithe, 
animated  forms  are  common  in  Poland  ;  but  Jad- 
wiga surpassed  them  all.  I  could  liken  her  to  the 
picked  specimen  in  a  bunch  of  one  sort  of  flowers 
— the  one  that,  although  of  the  same  colour  and 
the  same  shape  as  its  neighbours,  yet  possesses 
every  characteristic  of  the  species  more  perfectly 
developed  than  they. 

When  I  had  murmured  some  sort  of  vague 
acquiescence  to  Malewicz's  remark,  he  added 
thoughtfully  :  "  And  yet  that  was  not  what  her 
father  wanted." 

"  Had  he  made  plans  for  her  already  ?  "  I  asked 
in  order  to  cover  the  genuine  embarrassment  I  felt. 
"Surely  she  was  a  mere  child  when  he  died  ?  " 

"  So  she  was,  and  yet  he  had  made  plans.  Some 
fathers  look  far  ahead,  you  know.  He  had  actually 
thought  of  a  husband  for  her,  but  you  would  never 
guess  whom." 

"I  don't  see  how  I  could  well  guess  that,"  I  re- 
marked. 

"  No    other   than    your    humble   servant,"  said 


O  N  E      Y  E  A  R  135 

Malewicz  with  a  short,  hard  laugh,  which  it  hurt 
me  to  hear.  "  But,  as  you  see,  dead  men  do  not 
always  get  their  wishes — nor  living  ones  either," 
he  added  below  his  breath.  Then  he  went  on  : — 
"  I  don't  mean  to  say  that  his  intention  was  fixed ; 
probably  it  was  only  a  passing  fancy.  My  father 
was  an  old  friend  of  his,  you  see,  and  he  thought, 
no  doubt,  that  he  would  be  doing  me  a  good  turn. 
I  daresay  you  have  heard  that  Pan  Bielinski  was  in 
general  very  kind  to  me  ? " 

He  looked  at  me  rather  closely  as  he  spoke  and  I 
assented,  having  indeed  heard  from  Jadwiga  that 
her  father  had  on  more  than  one  occasion  offered 
help  to  the  son  of  his  dead  friend,  but  also  that 
this  help  had  always  been  refused. 

"  He  was  eccentric  in  many  things,"  remarked 
Malewicz,  thoughtfully  ;  "the  idea  of  choosing  me 
as  a  son-in-law  is  a  proof  of  it,  is  it  not  ?  Why,  I 
believe  Pani  Jadwiga  ranges  me  quite  among  the 
middle-aged." 

I  knew  this  to  be  not  exactly  true,  although, 
owing  to  the  ten  or  dozen  years  difference  betweerj 
them,  Malewicz  had,  of  course,  never  been  a  play- 
fellow, in  the  way  Wladimir  had  been,  and  there- 
fore did  not  enjoy  such  privileges  as,  for  example, 
being  called  by  his  Christian  name. 

"  Eccentric  ?  "  I  repeated,  carefully  ignoring  the 
latter  half  of  his  remark,  "  I  have  heard  that  he 
was  more  than  eccentric.' 


136  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

Malewicz  turned  quickly  toward  me.  "  You 
have  heard  that  he  was  mad,  I  suppose?  No 
doubt  somebody  has  told  you  the  story." 

"  I  have  been  told  the  story,"  I  said,  "  but  I 
don't  quite  know  what  to  think  of  the  madness. 
Tell  me,  Pan  Malewicz,"  I  added  on  some  impulse 
of  curiosity,  for  the  opportunity  seemed  too  good 
to  be  lost,  "  are  you  too  of  the  opinion  of  the 
world  ? " 

He  met  my  eyes  for  a  moment,  and  then  looked 
away  across  the  room. 

"  What  other  explanation  can  you  possibly 
find  ?  "  he  asked,  in  not  quite  so  decisive  a  tone  as 
usual. 

"  I  have  not  found  any,  or  rather  I  have  found 
dozens,  and  I  don't  know  how  to  choose  between 
them." 

"  Ah  !  "  he  said,  and  looked  back  at  me  keenly, 
and  as  it  seemed  to  me  a  little  anxiously,  "  and 
what  may  your  explanations  be  ?  " 

Then  I  gave  him  the  outline  of  the  romance  I 
have  evolved  out  of  my  inner  consciousness,  as 
well  as  of  several  variations  upon  the  same  theme. 
He  listened  with  his  eyes  on  the  dancers,  but  evi- 
dently intently. 

"  Do  you  not  think  I  may  have  got  near  the 
truth  ?  "  I  asked  at  last. 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "How  can  I  tell? 
What  should  I  know  about  it  more  than  any  one 


O  N  E      Y  E  A  R  137 

else  ?  "  he  asked,  almost  a  little  impatiently.  "  The 
world  says  he  was  mad,  and  perhaps  the  world  was 
right." 

"  Perhaps,"  I  said,  "  but  rather  than  the  world's 
opinion  I  would  have  had  that  of  the  old  French 
monk  who  was  the  victim." 

"  He  was  not  so  very  old,"  said  Malewicz, 
"  certainly  under  fifty." 

"  Did  you  see  him  ?  "  I  asked  in  some  surprise. 

"  Certainly  I  did." 

"  Dead  or  alive  ?  " 

"Alive  and  dead.  Did  you  not  hear  that  he 
came  to  our  house  just  before  he  went  to  Ludniki  ? 
We  are  on  the  way,  you  know." 

"  No,  I  had  not  heard  that  before,"  I  said  with 
increased  interest.  "  And  what  impression  did 
you  get  of  him  ?  Did  you  too  take  him  for  a  gen- 
tleman and  for  a  Frenchman  ?  " 

"  He  certainly  was  a  Frenchman,"  said  Male- 
wicz, again  looking  across  the  room,  "  and  I  be- 
lieve he  was  a  gentleman  too." 

"  But  quite  a  stranger  to  you,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  Entirely  so." 

"  I  wonder  whether  he  would  have  been  a 
stranger  to  your  father  too  ? "  I  mused  aloud. 
"  He  also  had  been  in  Paris  in  his  youth,  but  I  be- 
lieve he  was  dead  by  that  time  ?  " 

"  He  died  two  years  earlier,"  said  Malewicz 
briefly. 


138  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

I  pondered  for  a  moment.  "  Pan  Lewicki, 
Wladimir's  father,  was  the  third  of  the  *  Three 
Mousquetaires,'  as  I  think  you  said  the  trio  was 
called  in  Paris.  Did  the  mysterious  monk  ever 
meet  his  eyes,  I  wonder  ?  " 

"  No,  Pan  Lewicki  never  saw  him,  he  was  away 
from  home  at  the  time.  But  don't  you  think,  Miss 
Middleton,"  he  added  in  another  tone,  "  that  we 
might  choose  a  topic  more  congenial  to  a  ball-room 
than  are  these  black  memories  ?  " 

I  asquiesced,  half  ashamed  of  the  curiosity  that 
had  pushed  me  so  far,  and,  although  this  inquisi- 
tiveness  sprang  only  from  my  warm  interest  in 
Jadwiga,  and  anything  that  touched  her,  even  in- 
directly. We  talked  of  other  things  after  that,  but 
I  carried  away  with  me  the  impression  that  Male- 
wicz  too  disbelieved  in  Bielinski's  madness,  and 
had  possibly  even  formed  a  theory  of  his  own,  dis- 
tinct no  doubt  from  mine,  as  well  as  from  that  of 
the  public. 


CHAPTER  IX 

SCARCELY  a  fortnight  after  the  dance  at  Krasno 
I  find  myself  writing  thus  to  Agnes  : — 

"  I  have  seen  my  first  stork— or  rather  storks, 
for  there  were  more  than  twenty  of  them.  Ever 
since  on  my  arrival  last  October  I  inquired  what 
the  untidy,  black  lumps  were  which  decorated 
many  of  the  straw  roofs  in  the  village,  and  was 
told  that  they  were  storks'  nests ;  I  have  been 
waiting  eagerly  for  the  return  of  the  occupants. 
But  now  that  they  have  come  something  else  has 
happened  whose  interest  quite  puts  the  storks  into 
the  shade.  To  come  to  the  point  at  once,  that 
which  has  been  preparing  all  winter  has  come  to 
pass — since  yesterday  Jadwiga  and  Wladimir  are 
betrothed.  I  rejoice  with  the  sweetest  girl  I  ever 
knew,  and  at  the  same  time  I  feel  as  though  I  must 
pray  very  hard  for  her  happiness.  Why  ?  I  am 
sure  I  don't  know,  but  I  can't  quite  suppress  a 
shade  of  anxiety.  Jadwiga  is  generous  in  her  love, 
but  she  expects  the  same  measure  in  return — as  she 
gives  largely,  so  she  wants  to  be  given  to  largely,  and 
her  own  spirit  is  so  high,  her  temperament  so  in- 
tolerant of  anything  below  the  most  ideal  standard 
of  self-devotion,  that  it  would  be  difficult  for  any 
139 


i4o  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

man  quite  to  come  up  to  her  ideal.  Will  Wladi- 
mir  do  so,  morally,  when  the  first  glamour  of  their 
love  is  passed  ?  He  is  a  dear,  good  boy,  and  he 
loves  her  devotedly — it  is  scarcely  too  much  to  say 
that  he  adores  her — but  I  cannot  quite  rid  myself 
of  the  feeling  that  there  is  a  certain  want  of 
stamina  about  him,  something  too  ornamental  even 
to  allow  of  his  being  useful,  a  thing,  in  short, 
which  is  intended  more  to  be  gazed  at  than  leant 
upon.  It  may  be  that  my  partiality  for  Jadwiga 
makes  me  hypercritical,  but  she  is  perfectly  and 
entirely  happy,  and  so  I  must  not  repine." 

And  now,  leaving  the  rest  of  this  letter  aside,  as 
irrelevant  to  my  subject,  I  must  enter  more  closely 
into  the  circumstances  under  which  I  saw  my  first 
storks. 

A  cruel  and,  so  to  say,  ironical  chance  had 
thrown  the  names-day  of  Madame  Malewicz 
within  the  same  fortnight  as  that  of  Pan  Lewicki, 
and  after  the  comfortable,  almost  sumptuous, 
Krasno,  it  was  at  the  bare  and  dilapidated  Roma 
Wielka  that  the  society  of  the  neighbourhood 
assembled.  No  contrast  could  have  been  sharper. 
Both  houses  were  planned  on  about  the  same  scale. 
In  times  long  past  Roma  Wielka  may  even  have 
been  the  more  luxurious  of  the  two,  whereas  now 
the  great  rooms  looked  as  empty  as  though  sacked 
by  an  enemy.  Nothing  more  mournful  to  see 
than  poverty  in  the  wrong  place ;  so  long  as  shff 


ONE      YEAR  141 

keeps  to  her  proper  sphere  and  hides  her  head 
under  thatched  roofs,  she  is  not  without  a  certain 
grace  of  her  own  ;  but  poverty  in  halls  is  quite  a 
different  thing  from  poverty  in  cottages.  To  see 
the  steps  of  a  nobly  broad  terrace  crumbling  for 
want  of  repair ;  tiles  missing  from  an  almost 
palatial  roof;  while  a  park  that  would  require  a 
staff  of  gardeners  to  keep  it  in  order  is  abandoned 
to  a  lad  with  a  hoe — powerless,  of  course,  against 
the  invading  army  of  weeds — is  enough  to  strike 
sadness  even  to  the  heart  of  a  stranger.  In  its 
golden  days  the  Roma  Wielka  park  must  have 
been  a  far  more  ambitious  affair  than  that  of 
Ludniki,  as  was  testified  by  traces  of  fountains, 
remains  of  plaster  figures,  and  ruins  of  summer- 
houses,  yet,  despite  its  comparative  neglect,  Ludniki 
was  a  model  of  order  compared  to  this. 

If  anything  could  have  enhanced  the  tragi- 
comical side  of  this  caricature  of  former  grandeur, 
I  think  it  was  the  festive  air  it  assumed  on  the 
April  day  of  which  I  am  writing.  Every  effort 
had,  of  course,  been  made  to  receive  the  guests 
becomingly — the  same  guests  that  had  been  feasted 
at  Krasno  a  fortnight  ago — but  ah,  how  apparent 
the  effort  was,  how  thin  the  mask  spread  over  the 
features  of  grinning  poverty !  What  Polish  tact 
could  do  to  smooth  over  the  difficulties  of  the 
position  was,  of  course,  done.  The  bare  apart- 
ment positively  shone  with  the  hot-house  flowers 


i42  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

brought  as  feast-day  offerings  to  Madame  Male- 
wicz,  and  whose  bright  colours  so  mercifully  clothed 
the  nakedness  of  the  rooms  which  all  the  elders 
remembered  in  their  time  of  prosperity.  Yet, 
despite  their  smiling  unconsciousness,  each  guest 
must  have  known  that,  in  order  to  spread  even  this 
poor  fare  before  them,  mother  and  son  would  have 
well-nigh  to  starve  themselves  for  a  month  to 
come.  What  Malewicz  must  have  suffered  on 
occasions  like  this  it  is  difficult  to  conjecture;  to 
his  proud  and  over-sensitive  spirit  this  day  must 
have  been  one  of  ever  recurring  torture,  as  was  to 
be  read  in  the  exaggerated  brilliancy  of  his  black 
eyes,  and  the  tight  look  about  his  lips,  as  gravely, 
punctiliously,  without  a  trace  of  Wladmir's  playful 
grace,  he  did  the  honours  of  his  bare  home. 

Fortunately,  his  mother  saved  him  almost  the 
entire  trouble  of  being  amiable.  I  had  seen  her 
once  or  twice  in  the  course  of  the  winter,  when 
visits  had  been  exchanged  between  Ludniki  and 
Roma  Wielka,  and  in  an  earlier  letter  to  my 
friend  I  find  my  first  impressions  to  her  thus 
given  : — 

Madame  Malewicz  is  a  very  charming,  rather 
helpless  old  lady,  with  a  delicate  nut-cracker  face, 
and  the  same  black  eyes  as  her  son,  who  has 
evidently  been  accustomed  until  nearly  middle-age 
to  be  waited  on  by  troops  of  servants,  and  who,  not 
being  used  to  think  for  herself,  is  always  leaving 


O  N  E      Y  E  A  R  143 

her  shawl  and  her  cigarettes  lying  somewhere  about 
the  place.  I  should  say,  at  a  guess,  that  she  is 
exceedingly  unpractical  and  somewhat  vague.  She 
bears  her  privations  with  the  most  delightful  good 
humour,  and  seems  to  have  what  people  call  a 
"  happy  disposition,"  but  after  nearly  twenty  years 
she  doesn't  seem  to  have  in  the  least  adapted  her- 
self to  her  "  new  "  position.  Obviously,  she  is  the 
sort  of  person  who  is  meant  to  be  rich,  and  I  don't 
think  I  am  wrong  in  supposing  that  she  adds  con- 
siderably to  her  son's  difficulties  by  not  under- 
standing what  she  can  afford,  and  what  she  cannot. 
Although  she  is  certainly  not  stupid,  she  gives  me 
the  impression  of  never  quite  realising  her  financial 
position. 

It  may  have  been  exactly  this  last-named 
deficiency  which  made  of  Madame  Malewicz  so 
perfect  a  hostess.  If  she  had  had  a  dozen  footmen 
behind  her,  and  a  gorgeously-furnished  hall  in 
which  to  receive  her  guests,  she  could  not  have 
greeted  them  with  more  smiling  cordiality,  nor — 
when  the  time  for  refreshment  came — could  she 
have  pressed  food  upon  them  with  more  complete 
self-confidence  had  her  table  been  laden  with  the 
most  costly  meats.  Nothing  but  her  complete 
unconsciousness  of  the  deficiencies  around  her 
could  have  made  the  situation  bearable.  The 
occasion  which  to  the  son  was  one  of  mental 
agony,  was  to  the  mother  obviously  one  of  pure 


i44  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

enjoyment.  It  was  clear  at  a  first  glance  that  she 
was  created  for  society,  and  merely  to  put  on  a 
silk  dress  and  shake  the  hands  of  her  acquaintances 
was  bliss  to  her.  I  doubt  not  that  her  spirit  carried 
her  back  to  similar  occasions  in  a  more  brilliant 
setting,  and  that  she  lived  so  entirely  in  the  memory 
of  those  fortunate  days  that  the  distasteful  details 
of  the  present  escaped  her.  There  was  no  guest  so 
insignificant  but  that  she  had  not  an  appropriate 
word  for  him. 

"  Whom  do  I  see  ? — actually  Wandusia  ?  "  she 
exclaimed,  on  catching  sight  of  a  young  girl  follow- 
ing close  upon  her  mother.  "  Wandusia  in  long 
skirts — put  on  in  my  honour,  of  course ;  this  is 
good  of  you,  Stasia.  I  always  said  that  she  must 
make  her  debut  at  Roma  Wielka ;  we  have  room 
enough  here,  even  if  the  floor  is  not  quite  so  good 
as  it  used  to  be,  and — let  me  whisper  it  in  Wan- 
dusia's  ear — we  have  three  fiddlers  coming  !  What 
do  you  think  of  that  ? — from  Zloczek  only,  it  is 
true.  I  had  wanted  to  get  the  music  from  Lim- 
berg,  but  that  economical  son  of  mine — he's  a 
tyrant,  I  assure  you — declared  it  would  be  ex- 
travagant," clapping  him  affectionately  on  his 
sleeve  with  her  fan.  "  But  he  has  extravagant 
moments,  too— let  me  see,  where  have  I  got  it  ? 
Krysztof,  my  love,  just  run  and  fetch  me  the  new 
cigarette  case,  I  had  it  a  moment  ago — it  will  be 
cither  in  my  bedroom  or  the  dining-room,  or,  if 


O  N  E      Y  E  A  R  145 

not,  Hania  will  know.  Ah,  Zygmunt  Rapinski ! 
this  does  my  eyes  good  !  "  she  went  on  in  the 
same  breath,  addressing  a  white-haired  gentleman. 
"  I  knew  you  would  not  forget  old  friends,  and  you 
will  get  your  reward  too,  for  the  last  bottle  of 
mibd"  (a  sweet  liqueur  in  which  honey  is  the  chief 
ingredient)  "  is  to  be  opened  to-day  ;  you  see  I  have 
not  forgotten  your  tastes — just  imagine  what  you 
would  have  missed  by  not  coming !  And  Elzbieta 
too  !  quite  right,  my  dear,  a  husband  who  is  as  fond 
of  miod  as  Zygmunt  had  better  not  be  left  to  him- 
self. There,  that  sofa  is  very  comfortable;  I 
advise  you  to  take  possession  of  it  in  good  time," 
pointing  with  the  affability  of  a  queen  to  a  seat  on 
which  the  frayed  satin  hung  in  fringes.  "Ah, 
there  comes  Krysztof  with  the  cigarette  case — I 
wonder  where  he  found  it  ?  Now,  my  friends, 
don't  you  call  this  good  taste  ? "  exhibiting  an 
extremely  handsome  cigarette  case  of  chased  silver, 
decorated  with  the  Malewicz  arms.  "  Isn't  it 
foolish  of  him,  and  isn't  it  also  sweet  of  him  ?  I 
have  told  him  a  hundred  times  that  I  can  do  with- 
out these  things,  that  I  can  do  without  anything, 
that  I  have  no  wants ;  but  it  is  no  use,  and  just 
because  I  lost  my  old  one  last  week  he  goes  and 
buys  me  this  as  a  feast-day  present !  " 

The  case  was  indeed  so  out  of  keeping  with  the 
establishment  that  I  looked  instinctively  toward 
Malewicz.  There  was  the  ghost  of  a  smile  play- 


146  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

ing  about  his  tight  lips,  which  helped  me  to  guess 
part  of  his  thoughts.  It  was  not  the  first  time 
that  I  had  heard  Madame  Malewicz  protest  her  en- 
tire independence  of  such  trifles,  but  I  had  also 
observed  that  she  did  not  quite  live  up  to  her  prin- 
ciples. No  doubt  her  son  knew  better  than  her- 
self which  things  were  necessary  to  her  happiness, 
and  which  not,  and  mercy  knows  at  what  personal 
sacrifices  that  cigarette  case  had  been  purchased. 

"Have  any  of  you  gentlemen  got  any  matches 
about  you  ?  "  went  on  the  old  lady,  opening  her 
case,  "  I  had  mine  a  minute  ago " — Madame 
Malewicz  always  had  everything  a  minute  ago — 
"  Elzbieta  will  join  me,  I  know,  but  I  am  not  go- 
ing to  give  Jadwiga  any ;  it  is  all  very  well  for  old 
women  like  us  to  dye  our  teeth  any  colour  we  like, 
but  it  would  be  a  sin  to  stain  those  pearls  even  by 
a  shade,"  and  she  smiled  at  Jadwiga  affectionately, 
displaying  a  set  of  still  regular,  but  almost  canary- 
coloured  teeth. 

Thus  she  chattered  on  with  the  lightheartedness 
of  a  child  for  whom  embarrassment  does  not  exist. 

When  I  had  amused  myself  sufficiently  with 
watching  her  and  admiring  her — for  it  was  impos- 
sible to  do  otherwise — I  took  an  opportunity  of 
slipping  unobserved  from  the  room  and  out  into  the 
great  wilderness  which  still  went  by  the  name  of 
park.  The  weather  at  least  had  been  kind  to 
Madame  Malewicz ;  this  was  a  far  more  perfect 


O  N  E      Y  E  A  R  147 

spring  day  than  the  one  spent  lately  at  Krasno. 
True  it  was  only  the  willows  and  the  hazel-nuts 
that  were  tufted  and  tasselled  as  yet,  and  the 
tangled  beech  branches  overhead  were  almost  black, 
but  among  them  the  birds  were  pouring  out  their 
hearts  in  a  perfect  flood  of  melody,  and  in  sheltered 
places  the  ground  was  streaked  with  vivid  green. 
I  had  only  gathered  snowdrops  as  yet,  and  was 
hungering  after  violets,  cowslips,  anything  to  tell 
me  more  plainly  that  the  long  winter  was  really 
over.  But,  although  my  mind  was  bent  on  flow- 
ers, the  surroundings  necessarily  took  my  thoughts 
back  to  Malewicz.  Since  seeing  him  in  his  own 
home  I  had  got  to  understand  the  whole  history  of 
the  man  better.  He  had  not  quite  reached  man- 
hood when  his  father  died,  leaving  him  only  the 
wreck  of  a  princely  fortune  and  his  mother  to  sup- 
port. Since  then  he  had  done  nothing  but  struggle 
to  keep  together  the  remnants  of  the  paternal  acres, 
with  the  additional  difficulty  of  distinctly  remem- 
bering the  time  of  luxury.  That  the  responsible 
position  in  which  he  had  been  prematurely  placed 
should  have  put  a  stamp  of  almost  exaggerated 
seriousness  upon  him  was  not  to  be  wondered  at, 
and  as  easily  could  I  understand  that  the  almost 
monastic  seclusion  in  which  he  lived  had  caused  his 
unfortunate  passion  for  Jadwiga  to  take  entire  pos- 
session of  his  soul,  standing  as  it  did  in  place  of 
everything  that  generally  makes  life  agreeable  at 


148  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

his  age.  An  unfortunate  passion  indeed !  The 
thought  of  it  oppressed  me  more  than  ever.  I  felt 
that  the  crisis  was  approaching,  although  I  did  not 
know  how  near  it  was.  Jadwiga  had  come  re- 
luctantly to  Roma  Wielka,  and  only  because  she 
could  not  avoid  doing  so  without  exciting  remark, 
and  I  do  not  think  that  she  herself  foresaw  the  end 
of  the  day. 

I  must  have  been  wandering  about  for  an  hour 
on  paths  barely  to  be  traced  and  often  obstructed 
by  a  self-planted  bush,  and  the  bunch  in  my  hands 
was  growing  to  quite  respectable  dimensions,  when 
I  heard  swift,  light  steps  behind  me,  and  turning 
saw  Anulka  trying  breathlessly  to  reach  me. 

"  Miss  Middleton,  oh,  Miss  Middleton,  wait  for 
me !  "  she  panted  in  her  thin  voice,  and  in  another 
moment  had  reached  me,  exhausted,  but  with  shin- 
ing eyes. 

"Oh,  I  had  to  catch  you,"  she  said,  cutting 
short  a  remonstrance  from  me.  "  I  have  discov- 
ered something  so  delightful — you  can't  imagine — 
nobody  knows  it  yet." 

"  Well,  what  is  it  ?  "  I  asked,  trying  to  make 
her  stand  still,  but  she  had  hold  of  my  hand  and 
was  dragging  me  feverishly  forward. 

"  I  can't  tell  it  you ;  it  is  something  I  must 
show  you  !  Oh,  do  come  quickly  or  it  may  be 
gone  !  " 

There  was   no   opposing   Anulka  when  in  this 


O  N  E      Y  E  A  R  149 

mood,  and  only  doing  my  best  to  moderate  the 
pace  I  allowed  myself  to  be  pulled  along  between 
the  trees  in  a  different  direction  from  the  one  I  had 
come  by,  and  with  my  curiosity  only  half-awakened 
and  bent  chiefly  on  some  new  sort  of  flower,  or 
possibly  a  bird's  nest.  We  had  left  the  path  and 
were  making  our  way  across  country,  as  it  were, 
often  having  to  skirt  some  spot  where  the  melted 
snow  still  lay  in  compact  pools,  and  passing  by 
patches  of  hepatica  and  anemone  which  my  fingers 
were  itching  to  be  at,  but  which  Anulka,  in  her 
eagerness,  scarcely  worthied  with  a  glance. 

"  Wait  only,"  she  kept  repeating,  "  I  have  some- 
thing much  more  exciting  to  show  you." 

At  last,  just  as  the  trees  were  lightening,  she 
stood  still,  and  peered  out  cautiously  from  between 
a  fringe  of  green  hazel-nut  tassels.  There  was  a 
clearing  in  the  park  just  here,  a  stretch  of  marshy 
meadow  which  was  greener  than  any  grass  I  had 
yet  seen. 

"  Are  they  still  there  ?  "  Anulka  was  saying  un- 
der her  breath.  "  Yes,  they  are  !  There  !  Look 
through  here,  Miss  Middleton." 

I  looked,  and  uttered  an  exclamation  of  sur- 
prised delight,  for  the  whole  green  surface  of  the 
little  meadow  was  dotted  over  with  tall,  white 
birds,  stalking  along  on  their  red  legs  with  a  so- 
lemnity impossible  to  describe,  and  gravely  poking 
about  for  the  frogs,  more  than  one  of  whom 


150  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

must  have  wakened  from  his  winter's  sleep  only  to 
find  himself  inside  a  stork,  for,  although  I  had 
never  seen  a  stork  out  of  a  picture-book,  I  had 
yet  vaguely  and  incredulously  guessed  at  the  iden- 
tity of  the  mysterious  white  birds.  I  say  incredu- 
lously, because  it  seemed  so  much  more  like  Hans 
Andersen  fairy  tale  than  anything  in  real  life. 

"  Have  you  counted  them  ?  "  I  whispered  to 
Anulka,  quite  as  interested  as  she  by  this  time  ; 
"  there  must  be  more  than  twenty." 

"  But  there  are  only  two,"  was  the  unexpected 
reply. 

"  Are  you  blind  ?  "  I  inquired  amazed. 

"  Are  you  looking  at  the  storks  ?  "  retorted 
Anulka. 

"  Of  course.     What  are  you  looking  at  ?  " 

"Why,  at  Jadwiga,  of  course.  At  Jadwiga 
and  Wladimir.  They  are  much  more  interesting, 
surely,  than  the  storks.  Bother  the  storks  !  Al- 
though, to  be  sure,  it  was  they  who  led  me  here. 
I  saw  the  flight,  and  wanted  to  see  where  they 
would  aljght,  so  I  followed  them  and  saw — well, 
just  what  you  see  over  there,  between  these  two 
twigs." 

Then  I  looked  again  mechanically,  and,  sure 
enough,  right  opposite,  just  across  the  green 
meadow,  Jadwiga  and  Wladimir  were  sitting  side 
by  side  on  a  bench  beneath  a  mighty  but  still  naked 
beech,  and  even  from  here  it  was  perfectly  clear 


O  N  E      YE  A  R  151 

that  their  hands  lay  in  each  other's  and  that  his  arm 
was  round  her  waist.  They  must  have  sat  so  for 
long,  for  the  birds  did  not  mind  them,  stalking  about 
peacefully  till  within  a  few  yards  of  the  motionless 
lovers — and  this  made  it  all  more  like  a  fairy  tale. 

"  And  you  thought  it  was  for  fear  of  frightening 
the  storks  away  that  I  was  speaking  so  low  ? "  tit- 
tered Anulka  by  my  side. 

I  turned  upon  her  angrily,  provoked  by  the  role 
of  eavesdropper  into  which  I  had  been  betrayed 
unawares.  With  her  shining  black  beads  of  eyes 
and  the  grin  of  delight  on  her  weazened  face  she 
seemed  the  very  embodiment  of  an  imp  of  evil. 
This  was  one  of  the  moments  in  which  I  posi- 
tively hated  her. 

"  How  could  you  dare  to  bring  me  here  ? "  I 
was  beginning  when  I  became  aware  that  some- 
body was  standing  behind  me.  I  turned  quickly 
and  saw  Malewicz  only  two  paces  off,  and  he,  too, 
was  looking  straight  in  front  of  him,  across  the 
meadow  with  the  storks — but  not  at  the  storks,  of 
course.  His  face  was  so  white,  his  eyes  so  fixed, 
and  his  mouth  so  pinched,  that  he  looked  physic- 
ally ill.  As  for  Anulka,  she  only  stopped  to  whis- 
per, "  I  am  frightened  of  him,"  and  then  darted 
away  among  the  bushes. 

"  We  had  better  be  going,"  I  said  unsteadily, 
but  I  had  to  touch  him  on  the  sleeve  before  he 
seemed  to  notice  me.  Then  he  turned  his  stiffly 


i52  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

moving  eyes  upon  me,  and  seemed  to  take  another 
moment  or  two  to  recognise  me. 

"  Yes,  we  had  better  be  going,"  he  repeated  in  a 
rough,  uneven  voice,  and  walked  two  steps  away, 
like  a  man  dazed,  then  abruptly  stood  still  and 
looked  at  me  again,  his  white  face  working. 

"  You  know  that  I  love  her  ?  "  he  said  still  in 
that  curiously  rough  voice,  and  measuring  me  al- 
most angrily  with  his  eyes,  as  though  the  words 
had  been  a  challenge. 

"  I  have  guessed  it,"  I  said  as  quietly  as  I  could, 
for  indeed  my  heart  was  bleeding  for  him. 

He  walked  on,  speaking  rapidly  as  he  went. 

"  I  knew,  of  course,  that  I  should  lose  her — that 
is,  that  I  should  never  win  her.  The  day  had  to 
come,  but  why  this  day?  Why  here?  Is  it  not 
bitter  enough  without  that  ?  " 

"  They  probably  forgot  where  they  were,"  I  said 
stupidly,  which  was  about  the  most  injudicious  re- 
mark I  could  make. 

Malewicz  gave  a  desolate  laugh. 

"  You  are  right — to  real  lovers  the  surroundings 
are  as  nothing — nothing  exists  but  just  they  them- 
selves. I  daresay  they  will  be  quite  surprised  to 
hear  that  it  was  at  Roma  Wielka  that  they  plighted 
their  faith  to  each  other.  To  them  it  is  not  Roma 
Wielka,  it  is  Paradise,  and  they  the  only  two  in- 
habitants. Oh,  to  have  been  only  an  hour  inside 
that  Paradise." 


O  NE      YE  A  R  153 

He  stopped  again  abruptly,  and  bent  his  shoulder 
against  a  tree  stem  as  though  taken  with  some  sud- 
den spasm.  I,  too,  stopped  perforce,  not  knowing 
whether  it  would  be  more  merciful  to  keep  my 
eyes  on  him  or  turn  them  away.  It  was  the  first 
time  that  I  had  seen  the  soul  of  a  man  in  mental 
agony,  thus  bared,  as  it  were,  to  my  gaze,  and  the 
spectacle  shook  me  as  I  had  seldom  been  shaken 
before.  Within  the  last  months  I  had  become  al- 
most intimate  with  Malewicz,  but  he  had  always 
been  reticent — for  a  Pole — and  I  had  not  been  pre- 
pared to  see  him  throw  off  the  mask  thus  entirely. 

"  If  there  was  a  God  in  Heaven,"  he  said 
fiercely,  while  he  still  leaned  against  the  tree  and 
picked  at  the  bark  with  nervous  fingers,  "  it  would 
not  be  possible  that  one  man  should  have  his  hands 
full  and  the  other  entirely  empty.  By  what  fault 
of  mine  am  I  robbed  of  everything  that  makes  life 
sweet  ?  My  father  was  the  first  who  robbed  me. 
Do  Paryzie  !  Do  Paryzie  !  (To  Paris).  It  used 
to  be  the  cry  of  young  men  in  his  day,  and  he  fol- 
lowed it,  and  the  gold  that  had  been  gained  by  the 
sweat  of  Polish  peasants'  brows  was  all  tossed 
away  on  the  Paris  gaming  tables,  and  because  he 
had  a  gay  youth  I  must  have  a  dark  one ;  because 
he  played  I  must  work  beyond  my  strength — and 
yet  that  is  not  small.  One  hope,  one  flower,  grew 
up  in  my  wilderness,  and  that  to-day  has  been 
gathered  by  another !  " 


154  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

He  broke  off  with  a  sort  of  gasp,  and  turned  his 
face  toward  the  tree.  There  passed  only  a  few 
moments,  during  which  he  was  obviously  struggling 
for  mastery  over  himself,  and  then  he  looked  back 
at  me,  and  I  saw  that  the  victory  was  gained. 
After  his  brief  outburst  of  rebellion  he  had  stooped 
and  again  taken  up  his  burden. 

"  Have  I  frightened  you  ?  "  he  said  with  rather 
a  ghastly  smile.  "  It  does  not  happen  to  me  often ; 
only  now  and  then  the  injustice  of  it  all  seems  to 
get  upon  me.  Please  forget  all  I  have  said  ;  I  was 
probably  raving.  Of  course  I  knew  that  this  con- 
summation was  coming — I  have  had  the  whole  win- 
ter to  prepare  in,  but  it  seems  that  it  was  too  short, 
after  all.  I  sincerely  wish  them  all  happiness.  I 
am  sure  that  Wladimir  loves  her,  and  will  try  to 
make  her  happy.  I  pray  to  God  that  he  may  suc- 
ceed. I  have  known  him  from  a  boy,  and  there  is 
no  harm  in  him  beyond  a  little  pardonable  vanity, 
and  that  surely  is  justified  by  circumstances,"  and 
he  smiled  again,  a  little  more  successfully. 

To  say  that  there  was  no  harm  in  Wladimir 
somehow  seemed  always  the  first  thing  that  his 
friends  were  moved  to  say  about  him,  but  of  Jad- 
wiga's  elected  husband  I  should  have  liked  to  hear 
praise  that  was  a  little  less  negative. 


CHAPTER  X 

DURING  the  weeks  that  followed  her  betrothal  I 
believe  Jadwiga  was  as  happy  as  it  is  possible  for  a 
mortal  creature  to  be.  She  had  found  her  ideal — 
or  believed  she  had  done  so,  which  comes  to  ex- 
actly the  same  thing.  She  had  got  hold  for  life  of 
a  congenial  spirit,  of  somebody  who  could  listen  to 
Byron  or  Chopin  for  hours  without  signs  of  weari- 
ness, and  could  enter  with  enthusiasm  into  her 
most  ideal  views  of  life.  Personally  I  doubt 
whether  Byron  read  by  other  lips,  or  Chopin 
played  by  other  fingers,  would  have  had  the  same 
power  of  entrancing  young  Lewicki,  but  to  Jad- 
wiga I  dared  not  hint  at  anything  but  the  most 
perfect  identity  of  tastes. 

Just  at  first  the  happy  bridegroom  was  a  little 
disturbed  by  one  thought. 

"  Do  you  think  anybody  guesses  which  day  it 
was  that  I  spoke  to  her  ?  "  he  anxiously  inquired 
of  me.  "  I  should  be  awfully  vexed  if  Krysztof 
were  to  know  that  it  happened  at  Roma  Wielka. 
You  see  it  came  over  me  somehow  quite  sud- 
denly." He  looked  at  me  with  such  a  boyishly 
deprecating  air  as  he  said  it  that  I  could  almost 
have  kissed  him. 

155 


156  ONE      YEAR 

"  It  would  make  it  harder  for  Krysztof,  don't 
you  see,"  he  added  thoughtfully,  "  and  besides,  it 
would  look  in  such  awfully  bad  taste " — it  was 
here  evidently  that  lay  the  rub.  The  thought  of 
doing  anything  that  was  not  in  the  most  perfect 
taste  must  certainly  have  been  acutely  painful  to 
any  one  of  Wladimir's  cast  of  mind. 

To  Jadwiga  the  same  thought  had  doubtless  oc- 
curred, but  she  did  not  speak  of  it  to  me.  Since 
her  engagement  she  had  no  attention  of  any  sort, 
even  for  Malewicz.  I  remember  one  occasion 
only  in  which  his  name  was  mentioned  between 
us.  I  had  been  defending  him  against  some  pass- 
ing attack,  when  Jadwiga  laughingly  broke  in : 

"  If  you  find  him  so  perfect  why  don't  you 
marry  him  yourself,"  she  asked,  carried  away  by 
her  exultant  spirits.  "  You're  always  sticking  to- 
gether in  a  corner,  at  any  rate.  Oh,  have  I  said 
anything  to  hurt  you  ?  "  she  checked  herself  ab- 
ruptly, for  her  quick  perception  probably  showed 
her  some  change  in  my  face. 

"  You  have  not  hurt  me,"  I  said,  "  but  you  may 
as  well  know  that  I  don't  mean  ever  to  marry.  If 
I  feel  drawn  toward  Malewicz  it  is  principally  be- 
cause he  too  has  been  unlucky  in  love." 

"  He  too !  Oh,  Miss  Middleton — Eleanor  !  then 
you  have  a  secret  which  you  have  never  told  me ; 
you  are  unhappy  and  you  have  not  allowed  me  to 
console  you  !  " 


O  N  E      Y  E  A  R  157 

I  don't  know  what  made  me  so  foolish,  but  just 
then  my  eyelids  began  to  burn  most  suspiciously 
and  my  sight  grew  blurred.  Perhaps  it  was  the 
contrast  between  her  fate  and  mine  that  over- 
powered me  thus  unexpectedly. 

Her  arms  were  round  my  neck  in  a  moment,  her 
soothing  voice  in  my  ear,  murmuring  all  sorts  of 
the  most  ingenuous  words  of  endearment.  Never 
before  or  since  has  it  been  my  fate  to  be  called  "  a 
little  dove  "  or  a  "  sweet  lamb  " — things  to  which 
I  am  aware  of  bearing  no  resemblance,  but  that 
was  Jadwiga's  way,  for  her  nature  was  essentially 
caressing.  In  a  few  minutes  more  she  knew  all 
about  my  poor  little  dead  romance.  I  should  need 
to  have  been  of  wood  to  resist  her.  She  listened 
with  an  astonishment  that  was  evidently  as  bound- 
less as  her  sympathy.  That  common  sense  could 
have  anything  to  do  with  sentiment  was  a  thing 
which  had  evidently  not  occurred  to  her  before. 

"  And  you  went  away  of  your  own  free  will  ?  " 
she  asked,  incredulously.  "Nobody  forced  you? 
Why  did  you  not  marry  and  then  trust  to  Provi- 
dence ?  " 

"  Because  neither  Henry  nor  I  are  idealists,"  I 
replied,  smiling,  recovered  by  this  time  from  that 
moment  of  weakness,  "  and  because  we  can  both 
make  a  sum  in  addition.  We  knew  that  by  mar- 
rying we  should  be  risking  starvation,  not  only  for 
ourselves,  but  possibly  for  others." 


158  O  NE      Y  E  A  R 

"  I  don't  understand  that  at  all,"  said  Jadwiga, 
thoughtfully.  She  was  kneeling  beside  me,  with 
one  arm  still  round  my  neck,  and  gazing  with 
wide,  dreamy  eyes  through  the  open  window  be- 
yond at  the  blue  of  the  spring  sky. 

"  If  two  people  really  are  fond  of  each  other, 
what  can  want  of  money  matter — what  ran  any- 
thing matter  ? " 

"You  have  never  wanted  it,  you  see,"  I  gently 
observed. 

"  No,  but  I  almost  wish  I  had,  just  to  be  able  to 
show  what  /  understand  by  love.  That  about  the 
world  being  well  lost  is  no  nonsense  to  me ;  it  is 
the  only  thing  that  I  entirely  subscribe  to — a  com- 
plete devotion,  an  entire  giving  away  of  oneself,  a 
merging  of  one  soul  into  another — it  is  the  only 
sort  of  love  that  seems  to  me  possible.  What  can 
poverty,  or  pain,  or  shame,  or  any  of  the  misfor- 
tunes of  life  do  to  such  a  love  as  that,  except  to 
make  each  cling  closer  to  the  other  ?  " 

Her  dreamy  eyes  took  fire  as  she  spoke,  and  I 
felt  the  hand  that  lay  about  my  neck  thrill  with  the 
inward  emotion.  She  looked  infinitely  beautiful 
and  infinitely  in  earnest  as  she  gazed  past  me  into 
the  blue  distance,  and  inwardly  I  prayed  that  her 
high  ideal  might  never  be  put  to  too  hard  a  test. 

But  the  test  was  coming  sooner  than  it  was  pos- 
sible to  foresee,  and  was  to  prove  far  harder  than 
anything  I  dreamed  of. 


ONE      YEAR  159 

Even  although  I  should  live  to  be  a  hundred  I 
shall  never  be  able  to  forget  the  smallest  details 
of  the  day  which  abruptly  broke  in  upon  Jadwiga's 
dream  of  bliss,  turning  the  peaceful  monotony  of 
Ludniki  into  agitation  and  perplexity.  Her  en- 
gagement was  nearly  three  months  old  by  this  time, 
and  the  outfit  was  making  great  progress,  for  the 
wedding  had  been  fixed  for  August.  This  very  day 
we  were  expecting  the  post  to  bring  us  the  patterns 
for  the  wedding-gown,  and  were  accordingly  looking 
forward  to  its  arrival  with  more  than  the  usual  in- 
terest. Of  late  Wladimir  had  spent  his  afternoons 
entirely  at  Ludniki,  for  his  father  had  gone  off  to 
nurse  his  rheumatism  at  Karlsbad,  and  the  empty 
house  at  Krasno  was  not  to  his  taste.  He  was 
here  again  to-day,  and  was  even  making  himself 
useful,  for  all  hands  were  busy  in  the  rose-walk. 
We  were  in  the  very  flush  of  the  rose  season  then, 
and  the  long,  straight  walk  which  I  had  first  seen 
bristling  with  hips  was  now  turned  into  a  perfect 
dream  of  beauty.  Like  two  long  untidy  garlands 
the  low-growing  roses  ran  down  each  side  of  the 
path,  spilling  their  vividly  crimson  petals  profusely 
on  the  ground,  intoxicating  the  eye  with  their 
colour,  the  brain  with  their  scent.  Every  morning 
when  I  walked  there,  there  were  fresh  ones  newly 
opened,  while  over-blown  ones  had  been  torn  to 
tatters  by  the  night  breeze.  To-day  Anulka  and 
I,  basket  in  hand,  were  diligently  collecting  the 


160  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

flowers,  while  Jadwiga  and  Wladimir,  installed  in 
one  of  the  old  summerhouses,  and  surrounded 
with  more  heaped  baskets  of  the  crimson  petals, 
were  supposed  to  be  clipping  off  the  hard  under- 
part  of  each  petal,  useless  for  culinary  purposes,  for 
these  were  the  roses  from  which  was  fabricated  the 
delicious  jam  I  had  tasted  so  often.  From  the  direc- 
tion of  the  house  the  clink  of  sugar  being  vigor- 
ously pounded  rang  toward  us  like  a  monotonous 
chorus,  and,  from  time  to  time,  Roza,  the  kitchen 
maid,  appeared  to  fetch  a  new  supply  of  rose 
leaves,  and  each  time  regularly  Wladimir  offered  to 
carry  them  for  her,  and  then  allowed  himself  to  be 
persuaded  to  stay  where  he  was. 

What  a  different  place  the  Ludniki  park  appeared 
to  me  to-day  from  what  it  had  done  at  first  sight ! 
I  remember  reflecting  on  it  as  I  skirted  the  rose 
hedge,  scissors  in  hand.  Then  I  had  been  shocked 
by  the  untidiness,  now  I  was  chiefly  charmed  by 
the  beauty.  Was  it  a  deterioration  in  me  ?  Per- 
haps. Evidently  the  atmosphere  of  comfortable 
neglect  in  which  I  lived  was  having  its  effect  upon 
me.  What  a  lot  of  time,  to  be  sure,  we  waste  in 
tidying  up  and  putting  things  straight  generally  ! 
Is  it  really  a  gain  to  cultivate  our  sense  of  sym- 
metry to  the  point  of  being  disturbed  by  a  stray 
paper  or  a  chipped  plate,  or  to  get  so  sensitive  by 
habit  as  not  to  be  able  to  stand  an  empty  bottle 
with  equanimity  ?  Upon  my  word,  I  believe  they 


^ ONE      YEAR 161 

are  right.  By  their  principle  of  Nie  nie  skadzie 
they  escape  quite  a  lot  of  bothers,  even  if  they  oc- 
casionally risk  not  finding  a  footstool  when  they 
want  it,  or  only  finding  one  with  a  broken  leg.  In 
such  and  such  like  reflections  I  had  caught  myself 
indulging  lately. 

"  I  think  I  hear  Jan's  horse,"  said  Jadwiga  to 
me  as  I  brought  her  another  basketful.  "  Do  send 
Anulka  for  the  post-bag." 

It  was  Jan,  who,  according  to  established  cus- 
tom, had  ridden  in  to  fetch  the  post  from  Zloczek. 

"  Oh,  aren't  you  curious  ?  "  screamed  Anulka  as 
she  ran  off,  "  but  I  hope  you'll  choose  brocade,  not 
satin.  Satin  is  so  every-day,  you  know." 

"  I  shall  choose  whatever  Wladimir  likes  best," 
said  Jadwiga  simply,  and  their  eyes  met  for  a  mo- 
ment, and  Wladimir  blew  aside  his  cigarette  smoke 
in  order  to  be  able  to  see  her  face  better,  for  it  is 
almost  superfluous  to  say  that  he  was  smoking  cig- 
arettes. In  Galicia  cigarette  smoking  is  the  ac- 
companiment of  everything,  from  card-playing  to 
love-making. 

Presently  Anulka  was  to  be  seen  coming  toward 
us  with  the  post-bag  dangling  from  her  arm. 

"  Jan  says  the  patterns  are  there,"  she  shouted 
to  us  from  afar. 

The  brass  setting  of  the  worn  and  weather-beaten 
old  post-bag  glimmered  faintly  in  the  sunshine.  Its 
familiar  countenance  bore  its  usual  expression  of 


i6i  O  N  E      YE  A  R 

stolid  indifference ;  there  was  nothing  to  show  that 
it  carried  a  thunderbolt  within  it. 

Jadwiga  took  her  hands  out  of  the  rose  leaves  to 
open  the  bag.  She  had  a  rose  in  her  hair,  and  one 
in  her  belt,  and  she  had  stuck  the  most  perfect  rose 
she  could  find  into  Wladimir's  buttonhole.  In  her 
light  summer  dress  she  looked  like  a  queen  of  the 
roses  indeed. 

"Yes,  the   patterns   are   here,  and,  let   me   see, 
what  else  ?     A  letter  from   Madame  Clarisse  "• 
that  was  the  milliner  at  Limberg — "  and  another 
big  letter — for  me  ?  " 

She  looked  at  the  address  on  the  long,  thick, 
blue  envelope,  and  her  face  grew  suddenly  grave. 

"  How  strange  !  "  she  said  in  a  subdued  tone. 
"  It  is  addressed  to  Papa.  It  must  be  somebody 
who  does  not  know — who  thinks  he  is  still  alive ; 
but  I  cannot  imagine  who.  Wladimir,  are  these 
not  French  postage  stamps  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Wladimir,  examining  them  ;  "  and 
the  postmark  is  Paris." 

"  Perhaps  somebody  who  knew  him  long  ago, 
but  what  can  he  have  to  write  to  him  now  ?  I 
suppose  I  had  better  take  the  letter  to  Mamma." 

"  Oh,  won't  you  look  at  the  patterns  first  ?  " 
asked  Anulka  in  an  agony  of  impatience. 

"  No,  I  must  go  to  Mamma,"  said  Jadwiga,  ob- 
viously agitated,  as  she  always  was  when  anything 
reminded  her  of  her  father,  and,  with  the  blue  letter 


O  N  E      Y  E  A  R  163 

in  her  hand,  she  rose  hastily,  overturning  a  basket 
as  she  did  so,  and  littering  the  ground  with  petals. 

"  Can  I  not  take  it  for  you  ?  "  asked  Wladimir ; 
but  she  gently  shook  her  head. 

"  You  can  unpack  the  patterns  meanwhile,"  she 
said.  "  I  daresay  I  shall  be  back  in  a  few  minutes. 
Very  likely  this  is  only  some  old  account  which 
has  been  overlooked." 

But  she  did  not  come  back  in  a  few  minutes. 
We  sat  on  working  among  the  rose  leaves  for 
nearly  half  an  hour  longer,  and  still  our  helper  did 
not  rejoin  us.  Wladimir  rolled  innumerable  cigar- 
ettes between  his  dexterous  fingers  and  threw  ques- 
tioning glances  along  the  rose-walk,  but  its  length 
remained  deserted.  The  patterns  of  brocade  and 
satin,  having  been  sufficiently  gloated  over  by 
Anulka,  lay  unheeded  on  the  table.  By  degrees  a 
vague  sort  of  anxiety  grew  up  within  me.  The 
letter  was  from  Paris — Jadwiga's  father  had  been 
in  Paris — the  dead  monk  was  a  Frenchman — these 
thoughts  moved  confusedly  in  my  brain,  and  out  of 
these  materials  my  fears  constructed  some  unde- 
fined danger  to  Jadwiga's  happiness. 

"  I  think  I  shall  go  and  see  if  there  is  no  bad 
news,"  I  said  at  last,  as  carelessly  as  I  could. 

"  That  would  be  good  of  you,"  said  Wladimir, 
who,  poor  boy,  was  looking  more  disappointed  than 
anxious.  He  had  not  counted  upon  seeing  his 
afternoon  thus  curtailed  of  its  rightful  measure. 


164  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

In  the  house  I  was  met  by  the  smell  of  hot  rose 
jam  which  penetrated  all  the  passages.  I  had  gone 
only  a  few  steps  when  I  almost  ran  against  Jadwiga. 

"  I  was  just  coming  to  look  for  you,"  she  said 
with  a  white,  startled  face,  catching  her  breath 
strangely  between  her  words.  "  Mamma  is  very 
ill." 

"  Because  of  that  letter  ?  "  I  asked  instinctively. 

"  Yes — I  suppose  so — but  I  don't  know  exactly. 
There  were  several  letters  inside  the  packet,  not 
only  one.  I  stopped  to  see  her  read  them  because 
I  really  was  curious,  but  she  had  only  read  one 
when  her  eyes  opened  wide — oh,  so  terribly  wide ! 
— and  she  fell  back  quite  stiff  in  her  chair.  Marya 
thinks  she  is  coming  round  now,  but  I  have  sent 
for  Doctor  Kouski.  I  was  just  coming  to  ask  for 
your  smelling-salts." 

I  fetched  the  smelling-salts,  but  was  met  at  the 
door  of  Madame  Bielinska's  room  by  Marya  in  one 
of  her  most  determined  moods.  I  was  not  to  come 
in,  nobody  was  to  come  in  until  the  doctor  arrived, 
she  categorically  declared,  not  even  the  young  lady. 
Madame  Bielinska  had  opened  her  eyes,  but  she 
seemed  in  a  sort  of  stupor ;  it  was  best  not  to  dis- 
turb her  further  just  yet.  And  here  were  the  letters 
which  had  arrived  by  the  post,  Pani  Jadwiga  had 
better  take  care  of  them  meanwhile,  and  she  thrust 
into  Jadwiga's  hands  the  whole  packet,  and  shut 
the  door  in  our  faces. 


CHAPTER  XI 

JADWIGA  and  I,  left  alone  in  the  passage,  looked 
at  each  other  for  a  moment  in  silence.  Then  she 
said  in  an  excited  whisper : — 

"  Come  to  my  room.  I  want  you  to  help  me 
to  read  these.  I  have  tried  to,  but  I  don't  under- 
stand anything ;  the  words  seem  to  jump  up  and 
down  before  my  eyes,  and  they  talk  of  such  strange 
things — there  seems  to  be  no  sense  in  it." 

"  But  ought  I  to  read  them  ?  "  I  asked,  doubt- 
fully. "If  these  are  family  affairs " 

"  You  must,  you  must !  "  she  repeated  excitedly. 
u 1  cannot  read  them  alone — I  am  too  frightened 
—of  I  don't  know  what.  And  they  have  to  be 
read — something  may  have  to  be  done,  and  if 
Mamma  is  ill  there's  only  me.  Oh,  don't  make 
me  read  them  alone  !  " 

I  don't  know  whether  I  was  right  to  yield  but  I 
did,  suffering  myself  to  be  led  along  to  Jadwiga's 
room,  where  the  first  thing  she  did  was  to  lock  the 
door. 

"  Why  do  you  do  that  ?  "  I  inquired,  startled  by 
so  unusual  a  precaution  on  her  part. 

"  I  don't  know.     I  don't  want  any  one  to  see  the 
letters  yet  until  I  know  what  is  in  them.     Here 
they  are  !     But  don't  read  them  too  loud,  please." 
165 


166  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

"  I  would  rather  read  them  to  myself  first,"  I 
said,  infected  by  her  excitement,  "  if  I  am  to  read 
them  at  all.  Let  me  just  throw  a  glance  over 
them." 

"  Yes,  yes,  only  be  quick,"  said  Jadwiga  fever- 
ishly, and  while  I  sat  down  at  the  table  she  took 
some  paces  about  the  room,  aimlessly  and  uneasily, 
and  finally  sat  down  on  her  bed  and  watched  me 
as  I  read.  I  could  feel  her  eyes  upon  my  face  and 
could  hear  her  deep,  unsteady  breaths.  Through 
the  open  window  the  hot  smell  of  the  rose-jam 
still  floated  in,  coming  from  culinary  regions,  and 
somewhere  in  the  distance  somebody  was  still 
pounding  sugar. 

I  don't  know  what  I  expected  as  I  took  the 
papers  into  my  hands  ;  all  sorts  of  wild  surmises 
were  in  my  head,  but  none  of  them  were  quite  the 
truth. 

Inside  the  big,  blue  envelope  there  had  been  a 
smaller  one,  originally  white,  but  a  good  deal  yel- 
lowed by  age,  and  fastened  with  seals  on  which, 
although  they  had  been  broken  within  the  last 
half-hour,  an  elaborate  coat  of  arms  was  still  trace- 
able. Besides  this  there  were  several  letters, 
whose  limpness  showed  them  to  be  of  the  same 
date  as  the  envelope,  and  having  evidently  come 
out  of  it.  One  only,  written  on  crisp,  business 
paper,  bore  a  date  of  only  a  few  days  back.  This 
is  the  one  I  first  took  up.  It  came  from  the  office 


ONE      YEAR  167 

of  a  Paris  solicitor,  and,  to  the  best  of  my  recol- 
lection, it  ran  as  follows  : — 

"  SIR, — During  the  revision  of  the  business  ef- 
fects of  my  predecessor  in  this  office,  M.  Nicolas 
Grimond,  defunct  on  the  loth  of  last  month,  I 
have  come  across  various  parcels — of  letters  pre- 
sumably— deposited  here  years  ago  by  the  Vicomte 
d'Urvain,  and  in  accordance  with  the  directions  on 
the  wrappers,  have  the  honour  to  return  to  you,  or 
to  your  heirs,  those  that  bear  your  address.  I  will 
here  remark  that  Monsieur  Grimond  had  for  years 
past  been  charged  with  the  affairs  of  the  family  of 
d'Urvain. 

"  A  notice  of  the  safe  reception  will  oblige 
"  Your  devoted  servant, 

"  JOSEPH  CHARDON." 

or  some  name  of  that  sort. 

I  looked  more  carefully  at  the  inner  envelope. 
There,  upon  the  surface,  I  found  the  somewhat 
faded  inscription : — 

"In  case  of  Monsieur  Grimond's  death  to  be  re- 
turned unopened  to 

"MONSIEUR  HAZ.IMIR  BIELINSKI, 
"  Ludniki, 

"  Post  Zloczek, 
"  Galicia, 

"  Austria." 
and  below  the  signature  : — 

"ACHILLE  D'URVAIN." 

In    complete    darkness   I   turned  to  the   letters 


168  ONE      YEAR 

which  had  evidently  been  contained  in  the  sealed 
envelope.  There  were  three  of  them,  written  in  a 
flowing,  legible  hand,  that  was  more  like  that  of  a 
woman  than  a  man,  and  they  were  all  signed 
"  Hazimir  Bielinski."  The  envelopes  they  had 
been  in  were  addressed  the  one  to  "  Monsieur  le 
Vicomte  d'Urvain,  Capitaine  dans  le  2me  Regiment 
de  Lanciers — Tunis — Afrique  " — the  others  to  the 
same  name,  but  bearing  the  designations  of  more 
obscure  African  places  that  I  have  forgotten.  The 
first  was  dated  from  Paris,  and  here  are  its  con- 
tents. I  have  altered  a  word  here  and  there,  but 
certainly  nothing  essential ;  there  was  a  time  when 
I  knew  those  letters  better  by  heart  than  any  les- 
son I  ever  learnt : — 

"  PARIS, 

"  Hotel  d'Angleterre, 

"May  nth,  185 — . 

"  MY  DEAR  VICOMTE, — I  have  not  done  it  yet, 
but  I  mean  to  do  it.  God  knows  that  I  shall  have 
no  peace  until  it  is  done.  I  would  have  written  to 
you  even  if  your  lines,  penned  at  Marseilles,  had 
not  arrived,  for  in  our  hurried  interview  on  last 
Wednesday  morning  I  could  not  even  attempt  to 
justify  myself  in  your  eyes — no,  not  to  justify,  but 
only  partially  to  excuse.  You  have  probably 
never  been  desperate,  or  you  would  know  that  a 
desperate  man  is  not  to  be  judged  as  one  that  is 
master  of  all  his  powers.  After  the  many  pleas- 
ant hours  spent  in  your  society  I  should  be  loth  to 
lose  your  esteem  entirely,  and  therefore  I  will  here 


O  N  E      Y  E  A  R  169 

attempt  to  tell  you  briefly  the  history  of  my  great 
fault,  or  of  my  crime,  if  you  will  so  call  it. 

"  You  will  remember  that  for  a  week  past  I  had 
been  losing  heavily ;  the  run  of  bad  luck  was  be- 
ginning to  get  on  my  nerves,  I  believe,  for  both 
my  sleep  and  appetite  went,  and  I  lived  in  a  state 
of  chronic  irritation,  very  hard  to  keep  within 
bounds.  Then  came  that  dreadful  Monday  when 
all  the  powers  of  hell  seemed  to  have  conspired 
against  me.  When  I  rose  from  the  table  that 
night — no,  it  was  morning  already — I  could  see 
my  ruin  quite  close  to  me — you  all  could  see  it,  I 
think,  for  every  one  agreed  that  a  revanche  was  due 
to  me,  and  he — I  cannot  bring  myself  to  write  the 
name  of  the  man  I  have  wronged — was  the  first  to 
offer  it  me  for  the  following  night.  I  knew  it  was 
my  last  chance ;  I  knew  that  one  more  such  night 
must  leave  me  a  beggar.  Everything,  my  whole 
future,  depended  upon  how  the  cards  fell. 

"  I  swear  to  you  by  the  memory  of  my  mother 
that  when  I  sat  down  at  the  table  I  had  no  more 
thought  of  doing  a  dishonest  act  than  of  murdering 
any  of  my  companions.  I  was  content  to  trust  to 
my  luck,  hoping  fiercely  that  it  would  be  on  the 
turn.  It  was  only  when  I  gradually  comprehended 
that  the  luck  had  not  turned,  that  this  night  was  to 
be  but  a  continuation  of  the  last,  that  I  began  to 
get  mad.  And  then  the  opportunity  came. 

"  Oh,  that  mirror,  that  fatal  mirror !  If  it  had 
not  been  for  the  chance  of  the  place  I  sat  in  I 
could  never  have  had  the  means,  even  if  I  had  had 
the  will,  to  do  harm.  How  was  I  to  know  how  to 
set  about  playing  false  ?  I  had  heard  indeed  of 
marked  cards,  but  I  never  would  have  had  the 


i7o  ONE      YEAR 

nerve  for  such  a  manipulation,  and  would  most 
certainly  have  betrayed  myself  at  the  first  attempt 
— but  the  mirror  showed  me  the  way.  I  was  hold- 
ing the  Bank,  as  you  remember.  From  the  mo- 
ment I  perceived  that,  by  slightly  tilting  up  the 
card  I  was  dealing,  I  could  catch  a  glimpse  of  its 
underside,  the  temptation  to  guide  my  play  by  this 
discovery  became  irresistible.  At  first  I  did  it  only 
by  way  of  experiment,  as  it  were.  It  did  not  seem 
to  me  possible  that  the  players  should  not  perceive 
my  manoeuvre,  but  when  it  became  clear  to  me 
that  they  did  not,  then  my  will  seemed  to  go  from 
me.  Remember,  on  one  side  there  was  Ruin  stand- 
ing— real  Ruin  this  time,  and  not  merely  its  shadow 
— on  the  other  this  ridiculously  easy,  childishly 
simple  means  of  retrieving  my  fortunes.  It  was 
like  a  new  sort  of  game  within  the  game,  and  I 
think  that  it  was  a  little  the  mere  interest  of  the 
thing  that  drew  me  on  until,  gaining  confidence,  I 
grew  bolder  and  began  to  stake  higher.  Nothing 
ever  was  so  successful.  The  bystanders — and  the 
excitement  of  the  play  had  drawn  many  to  the 
table — laughingly  declared  that  I  was  having  more 
than  my  revanche.  Once  only,  when  glancing  up- 
ward, I  met  among  the  lookers-on  a  pair  of  eyes 
fixed  with  suspicious  attention  upon  me.  They 
were  your  eyes,  Vicomte,  but  by  that  time  I  was 
too  flushed  with  success  to  heed  the  warning  in 
them.  It  was  only  when,  after  that  long  night,  I 
found  you  waiting  for  me  at  the  door  of  my  hotel 
that  I  understood  that  I  was  detected.  You  will 
do  me  the  justice  to  admit  that  I  attempted  no 
denial ;  it  had  been  but  a  brief  madness,  and  it  was 
over.  I  don't  think  I  ever  seriously  thought  of 


O  NE      YE  A  R  171 

profiting  by  the  act  into  which  I  had  been  betrayed. 
To  give  you  the  promise  which  you  demanded  of 
me  was,  therefore,  only  to  meet  my  own  conscience 
half-way.  Do  not  regret,  as  you  do  in  your  letter, 
that  you  were  unable,  to  stand  by  until  I  had  re- 
deemed my  word.  Both  your  duty  and  mine  is 
clear.  You  are  called  to  defend  your  country's 
interests  on  a  distant  field  of  battle ;  I  am  bound 
to  make  good  the  loss  which  my  opponent  of  the 
other  day  has  apparently  obtained  at  my  hands. 
Your  warning  was  not  required,  but  I  accept  it  as 
part  of  my  punishment.  You  are  my  judge  and  I 
am  the  sinner,  and  the  sentence  you  have  pro- 
nounced upon  me  shall  be  fulfilled  to  the  letter. 
Only  have  a  little  patience.  This  affair  must  be 
treated  between  me  and  him,  and  I  cannot  make 
up  my  mind  to  do  so  verbally.  So  long  as  we 
are  in  Paris  we  meet  daily.  I  shall  wait  until  we 
are  separated,  and  then  I  shall  write  to  him.  Do 
not  blame  the  delay.  If  he  were  in  any  way  un- 
harassed  by  his  losses  of  last  week  I  would  speak 
at  once,  but  his  pockets  are  still  full — neither  he 
nor  anybody  else  suspects  that  those  losses  were 
anything  but  a  trick  of  fortune.  You  and  I  are 
the  only  mortals  who  know  the  secret.  He  will 
be  leaving  Paris  next  week;  be  merciful  and  grant 
me  these  few  days  more  in  which  to  say  good-bye 
to  my  like  of  hitherto — perhaps  even  to  the  world, 
for  what  possible  future  remains  open  to  me  I  can- 
not see. 

"  As  for  the  calculation  you  make,  it  is,  I  fear, 
correct.  Yes,  it  cannot  have  been  less  than  a 
hundred  and  twenty  thousand  francs  that  passed 
between  us  on  Tuesday  night. 


i72  ONE      YEAR 

"  Farewell.  Think  of  me  as  little  badly  as  you 
can,  as  of  one  who  fell  by  weakness  and  not  by 
wickedness,  and  who  quickly  threw  from  him  his 
wrongful  gains. 

"  HAZIMIR  BIELINSKI." 

The  second  letter  was  shorter,  and  written  from 
Ludniki  a  few  months  later. 

"  DEAR  VICOMTE, — You  are  cruel  because  you 
have  never  been  unfortunate.  Have  I  not  told 
you  that  restitution  shall  be  made ;  and  can  you 
not  let  me  choose  my  own  time?  Surely  you  for- 
get that  what  you  ask  of  me  is  nothing  less  than 
beggaring  myself?  If  I  am  to  do  your  will  en- 
tirely there  will  be  no  help  but  to  sell  Ludniki ; 
according  to  your  merciless  view  of  the  case  not  a 
stone  of  it  belongs  to  me  now.  But  are  you  quite 
sure  that  your  view  is  the  correct  one  ?  At  the 
first  moment  I  was  so  overwhelmed  by  the  mere 
thought  of  what  I  had  attempted  to  do  that  I  un- 
hesitatingly accepted  your  verdict;  but  reflection 
has  put  another  light  on  the  matter.  It  is  true  that 
I  took  the  mirror  to  aid,  but  is  it  certain  that  with- 
out the  mirror  I  should  not  have  made  a  few  lucky 
guesses  ?  Besides,  as  I  told  you,  it  was  no  more 
than  a  glimpse  of  the  underside  that  I  caught,  so 
that,  even  with  that  aid,  I  was  scarcely  doing  more 
than  guessing ;  if  I  remember  right  there  were  even 
times  when,  in  a  fit  of  momentary  terror,  I  did  net 
consult  the  mirror  at  all ;  and  some  of  my  win- 
nings may  have  proceeded  from  exactly  those  times. 
How  then  do  you  want  to  decide  which  part  of  the 
sum  gained  that  night  is  my  lawful  property  and 
which  not  ?  The  matter  is  not  nearly  so  simple  as 


ONE      YEAR  173 

to  you,  with  your  high-minded  but  surely  some- 
what impulsive  chivalry,  it  appeared  in  the  first 
moment.  Let  me  implore  you  to  submit  the  mat- 
ter to  a  calmer  consideration.  I  think  you  will 
find  that  I  am  not  obliged  to  despoil  myself  en- 
tirely. Do  not  use  the  power  which  chance — or 
rather  which  I  myself  have  given  you  over  me  too 
harshly — for  without  my  own  confession  what 
proof  would  you  have  against  me  ?  Remember 
that  he  is  still  rich,  while  I  am  threatened  with 
poverty,  that  that  which  he  does  not  even  miss 
means  for  me  the  common  sustenance  of  life.  Of 
course  he  shall  have  his  due,  but  I  must  first  be 
clear  in  my  mind  as  to  what  exactly  is  his  due. 

"  I  shall  await  your  answer  before  doing  any- 
thing further.  I  do  not  know  where  my  letter  will 
find  you ;  according  to  the  papers  the  French 
troops  are  moving  continually,  but  in  time  these 
lines  will  reach  your  hands. 

"  I  do  not  know  whether  I  may  yet  venture  to 
sign  myself,  Your  friend, 

"  HAZIMIR  BIELINSKI." 

I  took  up  the  last  remaining  letter  and  read  : — 

"LUDNIKI,  November  iyth,  185 — . 

"  MONSIEUR  LE  VICOMTE, — Your  last  letter  was 
to  me  a  painful  surprise.  Had  I  not  told  you  that  I 
was  ready  to  abide  by  your  decision,  and  was  only 
in  doubt  as  to  the  exact  amount  of  restitution  due  ? 
Since  you  insist  upon  a  complete  sacrifice,  it  shall, 
of  course,  be  made,  but,  at  least,  you  will  allow 
me  to  make  it  in  my  own  fashion.  During  these 
months,  while  waiting  for  your  letter,  it  has  oc- 


174  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

curred  to  me  that  restitution  does  not  necessarily 
entail  confession.  I  have  only  to  repeat  the  un- 
happy experiment  which  Fate  forced  upon  me, 
using  it  this  time  against  myself;  ht  shall  win  back 
from  me  all  that  he  lost  on  that  fatal  night ;  he 
will  have  his  money  again  without  finding  it  neces- 
sary to  despise  me.  1  feel  a  little  lighter  in  heart 
since  thinking  of  this,  for  I  do  not  know  how  I 
could  have  borne  the  shame  even  before  only  one 
man  more.  The  beggary  still  remains,  and  this, 
too,  is  hard  enough  to  bear.  Beside  your  words 
of  stern  condemnation  might  you  not  find  some 
of  sympathy  for  a  very  unhappy  man  ?  The  ex- 
posure you  threaten  me  with  is  a  superfluous 
cruelty,  since  you  know  that  I  have  no  choice. 
"  HAZIMIR  BIELINSKI." 

As  I  laid  the  third  letter  on  the  table  I  raised 
my  eyes  and  met  those  of  Jadwiga  fixed  with  a 
devouring  glance  upon  my  face.  She  was  still  sit- 
ting on  the  bed,  as  though  she  had  found  that  the 
best  place  from  which  to  follow  my  expression  as 
I  read.  Whether  there  was  anything  to  see  there 
I  don't  know,  for  I  had  read  very  fast,  the  writing 
being  clear  despite  the  faded  ink,  and  had  scarcely 
taken  time  to  think  as  I  hurried  on,  for  I  too  was 
devoured  by  a  painful  curiosity. 

"Well?"  asked  Jadwiga,  impatiently.  "Do 
you  understand  anything  ?  Is  there  any  sense  in 
it  at  all  ?  " 

I  could  not  answer  immediately,  for  the  simple 
reason  that  as  yet  I  had  nothing  to  say.  Leaning 


ONE      YEAR  175 

my  cheek  on  my  hand  I  sat  for  a  few  moments 
quite  still,  with  closed  eyes,  allowing  the  phrases 
just  read  to  pass  once  more  slowly  through  my 
mind,  and  gradually  to  group  themselves  to  a 
whole. 

"  Yes,"  I  said  slowly,  after  that  minute.  "  I 
am  afraid  I  understand.  But  tell  me  first,  are  you 
quite  sure  these  letters  are  written  by  your  father  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  I  am  sure  of  that.  There  was  no  other 
Hazimir  Bielinski ;  and,  beside,  it  is  the  same 
writing  that  Mamma  has  in  her  prayer-book." 

"Then — but  are  you  sure  that  you  want  to 
know  everything  ?  These  letters  were  not  meant 
to  be  read  by  you  or  by  me  either." 

"Perhaps  not,  but  I  must  know  everything 
now,"  said  Jadwiga,  with  sudden  fierceness. 
"  You  have  no  right  to  keep  anything  from  me." 

She  sprang  from  the  bed  and  came  toward  the 
table,  but  I  gently  laid  my  hands  upon  the  papers 
that  lay  scattered  there. 

"  My  poor  child,  then  let  me  tell  you — it  would 
be  worse  to  read  the  words.  I  can  only  say  what 
seems  to  be  the  truth.  The  person  who  wrote 
these  letters  confesses  to  having  used  an  unfair  ad- 
vantage while  playing  at  cards,  and  having  thus 
wronged  another." 

Jadwiga  looked  at  me  wildly  across  the  table  on 
which,  with  convulsively  clenched  hands,  she  was 
leaning. 


176  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

"  But  I  have  just  told  you  that  the  person  who 
wrote  these  letters  was  my  father,"  she  said,  al- 
most coldly. 

I  looked  down  in  silence,  unable  to  bear  her 
gaze. 

"An  unfair  advantage,"  she  continued,  abstract- 
edly, "  but  that  would  be  the  same  as  cheating, 
would  it  not  r  Tell  me  quick,  Miss  Middleton,  is 
that  what  you  mean  ?  " 

"  That  is  what  these  letters  seem  to  mean,"  I 
answered,  helplessly. 

"  But  it  is  a  lie  !  "  she  cried,  giving  the  frail 
table  so  vehement  a  push  that  it  groaned  in  all  its 
somewhat  decrepit  members.  "  It  is  a  vile  lie,  or 
else  a  mistake — don't  you  think  it  is  a  mistake  Miss 
Middleton  ?  Surely  a  card  cheater  is  the  basest, 
most  contemptible  thing  in  the  world — therefore  it 
cannot  be  true.  You  don't  think  it  is  true,  do 
you  ?  "  And  her  eyes  seemed  to  be  imploring  me 
to  unsay  the  words  just  spoken. 

I  had  taken  up  the  letters  again,  and  was  once 
more  running  my  eye  over  them,  perhaps  in  some 
desperate  hope  of  extracting  another  meaning, 
although  in  my  heart  of  hearts  I  was  already  con- 
vinced. 

u  How  can  I  say  what  is  true  and  what  is  not  ? " 
I  answered,  with  painful  hesitation.  "  If  it  is  a 
lie  then  it  is  your  father  himself  who  has  spoken 
it,  and  why  should  he " 


ONE      YEAR  177 

My  words  were  cut  short  by  a  lively  movement 
of  the  door-handle — knocking  was  not  customary 
at  Ludniki. 

Jadwiga  flew  to  the  door  and  turned  the  key. 

"  Is  Mamma  worse  ?  "  she  asked  of  Marya, 
who  stood  without,  flurried,  but  also  indignant. 

"Much  worse,  I  consider,"  she  replied,  with  a 
certain  air  of  injured  consequence  she  was  apt  to 
assume  whenever  her  prescriptions  were  not  fol- 
lowed to  the  letter.  "  But  she  has  taken  it  into 
her  head  that  she  is  better,  and  nothing  will  suit 
her  but  that  the  young  lady  should  come  at  once 
and  bring  the  letters  with  her.  I've  never  seen 
her  anything  like  this.  It's  no  use  telling  her  that 
quiet  is  what  she  needs.  I  shouldn't  be  surprised 
if  she  refused  to  see  Dr.  Kouski  when  he  comes." 

Jadwiga  snatched  up  the  scattered  papers  from 
the  table  and  seized  me  by  the  hand. 

"  You  will  come  with  me  ?  "  she  said  with  ir- 
resistible entreaty  in  her  eyes ;  "  she  might  be 
taken  ill  again." 

"  I  will  follow  you  in  a  minute,"  I  said,  for  I 
had  suddenly  remembered  that  Wladimir  was  still 
waiting  in  the  garden,  in  complete  ignorance  and 
probably  keen  anxiety,  and  I  thought  that  I  might 
as  well  take  upon  myself  to  send  him  home.  His 
presence,  until  the  situation  was  somewhat  cleared 
and  the  most  violent  emotions  calmed,  struck  me 
only  as  a  fresh  complication. 


178  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

41  Madame  Bielinska  has  had  a  fainting  fit,"  I 
explained  to  the  distressed  youth,  "  and  Jadwiga  is 
too  busy  with  her  mother  to  come  out  again." 

"  But  she  is  not  ill  herself?  "  he  anxiously  in- 
quired. "  Was  there  any  bad  news  in  that  letter  ?  " 

"  There  was  some  rather — startling  news,  but  I 
cannot  stop  to  talk  about  that  now.  Jadwiga  is 
quite  well ;  you  need  have  no  fear  on  her  account." 

"  But  is  there  nothing  I  can  do  ?  Can't  I  fetch 
a  doctor,  or  go  a  message,  or  something  ?  "  he  in- 
quired desperately. 

u  No,  there  is  nothing  except  to  leave  Jadwiga 
undisturbed  beside  her  mother,"  I  replied. 

"  But  I  suppose  I  may  come  again  to-morrow  to 
inquire  ?  " 

"  Of  course  you  may,"  I  replied,  in  a  fever  to 
be  quit  of  him  and  back  again  beside  Jadwiga. 


CHAPTER  XII 

WHEN  I  reached  Madame  Bielinska's  room  a 
great  surprise  awaited  me.  She  was  not  lying  on 
the  bed  as  I  expected,  but  sitting  upright  in  the 
deep  armchair,  in  which  I  had  never  seen  her 
otherwise  than  sunk  into  a  broken  and  insignificant 
heap.  Her  spare  figure  had  been  wonderfully 
straightened  and,  as  it  were,  enlarged  by  some 
acute  tension  of  the  nerves;  on  her  usually  so 
bloodless  cheeks  there  burned  two  bright  spots, 
while  the  cavernous  eyes  no  longer  looked  empty 
of  everything  but  the  reflection  of  terror,  but 
showed  something  like  a  new  life  in  their  depth. 

"  The  letters  ! "  she  was  saying  as  I  entered. 
"  The  letters !  Where  are  they  ?  I  must  read 
them  again." 

Jadwiga,  on  her  knees  beside  her  mother,  was 
holding  them  half  hidden  against  her  dress. 

"  Little  mother,"  she  entreated,  "  do  not  read 
them.  They  will  make  you  ill  again.  It  is  all  a 
mistake — I  do  not  believe  it." 

"  I  do,"  said  the  mother,  in  so  strangely  incisive 
a  tone  that  Jadwiga  looked  at  her^speechless,  at  the 
same  time  mechanically  abandoning  the  papers  she 
held. 

179 


i8o  ONE      YEAR 

Madame  Bielinska  took  them  eagerly,  with  a 
gesture  I  had  never  seen  in  her,  or  supposed  her 
capable  of,  and  for  a  few  minutes  all  was  silent 
while  she  closely  read  the  letters,  nodding  her 
head  slowly  the  while,  and  sometimes  uttering  a 
queer  little  sound  in  her  throat  as  though  of 
assent  or  corroboration.  What  struck  me  as  the 
strangest  part  of  the  matter  was  that  neither 
grief,  despair,  nor  shame  had  any  part  in  her  ex- 
pression. These  were  the  things  I  expected  to 
find  there — was  she  not  reading  the  confession 
of  her  husband's  disgrace  ? — while  what  I  saw 
instead  was  excitement  undoubtedly,  but  mingled 
with  something  that  almost  resembled  satisfac- 
tion. 

When  she  had  done  reading  she  seemed  for  the 
first  time  to  notice  my  presence. 

"  Don't  send  Eleanor  away,"  said  Jadwiga 
quickly,  catching  her  mother's  glance  toward  me. 
"  She  knows  all  there  is  to  know — she  has  read  the 
letters — I  made  her  read  them — she  is  our  friend, 
Mamma." 

At  the  same  time  her  eyes  were  asking  me 
plainly  not  to  go.  It  was  evident  that  she  was 
afraid  of  being  left  alone  with  this  so  curiously  un- 
familiar mother. 

"  So  be  it,"  said  Madame  Bielinska  readily. 
"  Why  should  she  not  know  ?  Everybody  will 
soon  know,  and  she  may  help  us  with  her  advice  j 


O  N  E      Y  E  A  R  181 

we  will  require  much  reflection  and  good  counsel. 
Jadwiga,  my  love,  will  you  go  to  the  press  between 
the  windows  ? " 

She  was  fumbling  at  her  neck  as  she  spoke,  and 
now  pulled  out  a  narrow  black  ribbon  on  which 
hung  a  small  key. 

"  There  at  the  bottom,  on  the  lowest  shelf,  you 
will  find  a  leather  box,  the  one  with  the  monogram 
on  the  top ;  bring  it  to  me,  please,  at  once ;  there 
is  something  in  it." 

In  wordless  astonishment  Jadwiga  obeyed,  and 
I  looked  on,  unable  even  to  conjecture  on  what  her 
mind  was  running,  and  wondering  whether  her 
senses  were  not,  after  all,  deranged. 

Madame  Bielinska  grasped  at  the  box  that 
Jadwiga  brought  her  as  though  at  a  prize.  With 
steady  hands  she  unlocked  it,  and  searched  for  a 
few  moments  within.  It  seemed  principally  to 
contain  old  letters.  At  last  she  found  what  she 
wanted. 

"  There  !  "  she  said,  with  a  sigh  of  relief,  and, 
unfolding  a  limp  sheet  of  paper,  she  handed  it 
without  further  word  to  her  daughter  Jadwiga, 
whose  eyes  were  not  accustomed  to  the  dim  light 
of  the  apartment,  took  it  to  the  window.  As  she 
read,  the  perplexity  on  her  face  deepened;  then, 
still  in  silence,  she  passed  it  on  to  me. 

The  letter  was  not  written  on  letter  paper,  but 
on  a  sheet  that  might  have  been  torn  out  of  a  large 


182  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

note-book,  and  was  dated  from  a  military  lazaretto 
in  a  West  African  camp. 

"June  i6th,  185 — . 

"  MONSIEUR  BIELINSK.I, — Your  letter  has  found 
me  here — only  just  in  time.  I  am  not  able  to 
answer  it  myself,  for  the  sabre  cut  on  my  right 
arm  forbids  me  holding  a  pen.  Even  these  few 
words  have  to  be  dictated  to  Soeur  Marie  Cecile, 
the  good  angel  who  nurses  me  and  who  has  saved 
my  soul,  as  I  trust  to  God,  although  she  has  not 
been  able  to  save  my  body.  I  am  forced  to  use 
her  hand  as  the  instrument  wherewith  to  convey  to 
you  my  last  warning — the  warning  of  a  dying 
man.  But  you  need  not  fear  betrayal ;  I  will  use 
words  which  you  alone  can  understand.  Your  let- 
ter tells  me  that  you  see  your  duty  plainly  at  last ; 
fulfil  it  in  your  own  fashion,  but  do  not  delay.  In 
my  opinion  only  a  full  confession  could  bring  a 
full  atonement,  but  so  long  as  the  thing  is  done  I 
will  not  insist  on  the  way  it  is  done.  But  do  not 
grow  weak.  I  speak  to  you  as  one  whose  foot  is 
in  the  grave.  By  the  time  you  read  these  lines  the 
lips  that  dictated  them  will  be  cold.  When  I 
spoke  to  you  before,  I  spoke  as  the  indignant  man 
of  the  world,  for  whom  only  the  world's  code  of 
honour  exists ;  now  I  speak  as  the  sinner  whose 
eyes  have  been  opened  at  the  last  moment  to  the 
follies  of  his  youth,  to  the  time  he  has  wasted  in 
the  world,  and  it  is  God's  commandments  and  not 
man's  that  I  call  upon  you  to  respect.  But  I  be- 
lieve even  these  words  are  not  wanted.  You  will 
have  redeemed  your  word  ere  this,  and  made  the 
great  sacrifice.  May  God  reward  it  you,  and  may 
you  not  forget  to  pray  for  my  soul.  U." 


ONE      YEAR  183 

These  lines  were  penned  in  a  delicate  woman's 
hand,  and  only  the  U  at  the  foot  had  been  pain- 
fully scrambled  by  another,  evidently  the  dictator 
of  the  letter.  When  I  had  read  it  I  looked  at 
Jadwiga,  and  Jadwiga  looked  at  me,  then  -at  her 
mother,  who  was  carefully  watching  us  both.  A 
minute  passed  before  any  one  spoke.  I  was  trying 
to  piece  together  the  different  pieces  of  evidence — 
my  ideas  were  not  clearly  ranged  just  yet. 

"  I  don't  understand,"  said  Jadwiga,  at  last  slowly. 

"  Don't  you  ?  Surely  it  is  clear  enough.  The 
writer  of  the  letter  is  the  same  man  to  whom  these 
three  are  addressed,"  and  Madame  Bielinska  indi- 
cated the  papers  in  her  lap. 

"  But  where  does  this  one  come  from  ?  " 

"  That  I  am  going  to  tell  you.  After  your 
father's  death  I  found  it.  When  I  had  recovered 
my  senses  and  a  little  of  my  strength,  the  first  thing 
I  did  was  to  search  all  his  papers.  Every  one  told 
me  that  he  had  been  mad,  and  I  pretended  to 
believe  them,  but  I  did  not  do  so  really  for  a 
moment.  Somewhere,  so  I  felt  certain,  there  must 
exist  some  other  explanation,  and  I  had  no  peace 
until  I  had  read  every  line  he  left  behind  him, 
hoping  that  one  might  give  me  a  clue.  And  at  last 
I  found  this ;  and  even  this  was  not  among  his 
papers,  but  lying  between  the  leaves  of  a  book 
which  had  been  packed  away  at  the  back  of  a 
shelf.  I  suppose  that  was  the  only  reason  of  its 


184  O  N  E      YE  A  R 

not  having  been  destroyed,  as  every  other  one 
coming  from  the  same  quarter  has  evidently  been 
destroyed.  He  had  mislaid  it,  and  the  merest 
chance  put  the  book  into  my  hands  a  few  months 
after  his  death.  I  had  grown  so  used  to  scan  every 
paper  which  my  eye  fell  upon  that  I  at  once  read 
this  one,  and  I  immediately  understood  that. here 
lay  the  secret  of  his  death.  But  it  was  scarcely  to 
be  called  a  clue — nothing  that  I  could  follow  up, 
and  it  told  me  nothing  except  that  there  had  been 
some  disgrace  in  his  youth,  and  what  this  disgrace 
might  be  I  have  been  trying  to  guess  ever  since, 
and  I  see  now  that  I  have  not  been  far  from  the 
truth — for  I  have  often  thought  of  cards.  Oh,  I 
am  not  so  stupid  as  people  take  me  to  be  ! " 

There  was  a  convulsive  movement  about  her  lips 
which  may  have  been  meant  for  a  smile. 

Jadwiga  had  sat  down  opposite  to  her  mother, 
and  was  earnestly  looking  at  her. 

"  The  secret  of  his  death  ? "  she  repeated. 
"  How  does  this  explain  the  secret  of  his  death  ?  " 

Madame  Bielinska  made  a  movement  of  impa- 
tience. 

"  How  slow  you  are,  Jadwiga ! "  she  said,  in 
a  tone  of  querulous  irritation.  "  It  is  all  as 
plain  as  day.  Ever  since  I  found  this  French  let- 
ter I  have  suspected  that  the  monk  who  fell  by 
HazirmYs  hand  was  the  writer;  now  I  am  sure 
of  it." 


ONE      YEAR  185 

"  But  the  man  who  wrote  this  letter  was  dead 
long  before — he  wrote  it  on  his  death-bed." 

"  He  thought  he  was  on  his  death-bed,  but  he 
did  not  die.  This  Sister  Marie  Cecile  whom  he 
speaks  of  here,  did  after  all,  succeed  in  saving  his 
body  as  well  as  his  soul,  and  evidently  succeeded 
so  well  with  the  latter  that  the  first  use  he  made 
of  his  returning  health  was  to  forswear  the  world 
and  take  the  cowl.  Read  the  letter  again,  and 
say  whether  this  is  not  exactly  the  thing  which 
you  would  expect  of  the  writer,  supposing  he 
recovered." 

She  looked  at  me  as  though  appealing  to  my 
judgment,  and  I  silently  inclined  my  head. 

"  Whether  Hazimir  ever  had  any  further  com- 
munication with  him,"  went  on  Madame  Bie- 
linska,  "  I  do  not  know,  of  course.  If  he  had  he 
took  care  to  destroy  all  traces,  or  perhaps  he  got 
no  more.  The  Vicomte,  in  this  note,  seems  to 
have  considered  the  matter  settled,  and  once  in 
the  cloister  he  may  have  left  all  worldly  concerns 
outside." 

Jadwiga  began  to  move  uneasily  in  her  chair. 

"  But,  Mamma,  even  supposing  you  are  right — 
even  supposing  my  father  did  commit  so — so  great 
a  fault,  this  surely  does  not  explain  the — end. 
Since  he  had  atoned  for  his  weakness  so  many  years 
before,  what  further  cause  of  quarrel  could  there  be 
between  him  and  the  Frenchman  ?  " 


186  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

"  But  he  had  not  atoned  for  it !  "  cried  Madame 
Bielinska,  in  a  shrill  accent  that  rang  almost  like 
one  of  triumph,  and  grasping  the  two  arms  of  her 
chair,  she  bent  so  far  forward  that  I  thought  she 
must  fall,  staring  back  unflinchingly  into  her  daugh- 
ter's wide  and  horror-stricken  eyes.  "  Don't  you 
understand,  yet  ?  Does  he  not  say  in  all  these 
letters  of  his  that,  in  order  to  make  restitution,  he 
will  have  to  beggar  himself — to  sell  Ludniki  ? 
And  did  he  beggar  himself?  Has  Ludniki  been 
sold  ?  And  remember  during  all  these  years  we 
have  fallen  heir  to  no  inheritance}  no  money  has 
come  to  us  from  other  quarters.  What  does  it 
mean  ?  Why  simply  that  the  excuses  which  had 
served  for  weeks  and  for  months  had  ended  by 
serving  for  years.  And  when  twenty  years  later 
the  Vicomte  turned  monk,  came  to  this  door — 
whether  by  pure  chance  or  with  some  latent  intention, 
who  can  ever  tell  now — and  found  that  the  promise 
given  had  not  been  kept,  and  that  the  sinner  was 
still  in  possession  of  his  wrongful  gains,  has  turned 
his  wrath  upon  him,  possibly  threatening  him  with 
immediate  exposure — and  then — well,  surely,  now, 
you  cannot  believe  that  your  father  was  mad  when 
he  turned  the  pistol  first  upon  the  only  other 
man  who  knew  the  truth,  and  then  upon  him- 
self?" 

She  stopped,  sinking  back  in  her  chair,  her 
breath  coming  fast. 


O  N  E      Y  E  A  R  187 

I  looked  at  her,  lost  in  amazement  at  so  much 
rapidity  and  clearness  of  thought  in  a  person  whom 
I  had  always  regarded  as  anything  but  intellectual. 
Yes,  those  deductions  were  doubtless  correct ;  that 
might  very  well  have  been  the  way  in  which  the 
thing  had  played  itself  out.  To  be  sure  this  old 
woman  had  had  eleven  years  to  brood  over  a  subject 
which  to  us  was  new  in  its  essentials,  so  it  was 
scarcely  a  wonder  if  she  found  her  way  more 
rapidly  in  the  puzzle.  She  had  had  her  theory  lying 
all  ready,  so  to  say,  with  only  the  missing  pieces  to 
fit  in. 

Jadwiga  sprang  to  her  feet,  grasping  at  her  head. 

"  But  then  Ludniki  is  not  ours  !  "  she  cried,  in 
a  tone  of  acute  anguish.  "  It  cannot  be  ours  if 
all  this  is  true.  Whose  is  it,  Mamma  ?  " 

u  That  is  what  we  still  have  to  find  out,"  said 
Madame  Bielinska,  more  quietly.  "  Ludniki  be- 
longs to  the  man  who  was  cheated  that  night  in 
Paris.  His  name  is  nowhere  in  the  letters,  but  I 
shall  find  it  out,  ah,  yes,  I  shall  certainly  find  it 
out,  never  fear !  The  first  thing  to  do  is  to  write 
to  that  Paris  solicitor  and  have  every  inquiry  made 
concerning  the  Vicomte  d'Urvain ;  it  is  just  pos- 
sible that  he  has  left  other  papers  which  may  give 
a  further  clue  to  the  man  we  need.  Besides  there 
must  be  many  men  still  alive  who  remember  that 
Paris  time.  Lewicki  was  in  Paris  in»the  fifties; 
possibly  he  can  furnish  me  with  names — but  I 


i88  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

shall  have  to  wait  until  he  is  back  from  Karlsbad 
for  that.  Oh,  I  shall  find  him — I  shall  find  him 
yet !  " 

"  And  when  you  have  found  him  ?  "  I  ventured 
to  inquire. 

"  He  shall  be  given  back  every  penny  that  is  his 
own,"  she  said,  turning  upon  me  her  transfigured 
face.  "  How  I  thank  God  that  the  sum  is  men- 
tioned in  this  first  letter!  It  makes  the  matter 
simple.  A  hundred  and  twenty  thousand  francs — 
yes,  of  course,  Ludniki  will  have  to  go  ;  we  shall 
be  poor,  but  we  shall  be  free  of  that  terrible 
shadow  which  has  been  choking  me  for  eleven 
years — the  stain  shall  be  washed  out ;  as  the  resti- 
tution is  tardy  so  it  shall  be  full." 

She  looked  toward  her  daughter  as  though  in  ex- 
pectance of  an  echo  to  her  words,  but  Jadwiga, 
very  pale,  with  eyes  darkened  by  thought,  was  gaz- 
ing straight  in  front  of  her. 

"  It  shall  be  full,"  she  repeated,  after  her  mother, 
but  without  the  mother's  strange  enthusiasm,  "  it 
shall  be  full,  but  the  stain — no,  nothing  can  ever 
wash  the  stain  away." 

When  Doctor  Kouski  came  he  was,  as  Marya 
had  surmised,  not  admitted. 

"  Tell  him  that  it  was  only  a  stupid  mistake  of 
Marya's,  then  give  him  some  tea  and  send  him 
away,"  said  Madame  Bielinska  decisively  to  Jad- 
wiga. "  Miss  Middleton  will  perhaps  stay  here  in 


O  N  E      Y  E  A  R  189 

the  meantime  while  I  dictate  to  her  the  letter  for 
the  French  solicitor.  If  it  goes  back  with  the 
doctor  to  Zloczek,  it  will  still  catch  the  post." 

Within  the  next  half-hour  the  letter  was  written, 
consisting  principally  of  a  request  for  all  informa- 
tion obtainable  with  regard  to  the  late  Vicomte 
d'Urvain,  and  in  especial  as  to  what  was  known  of 
his  end  ;  also  as  to  whether  any  members  of  the 
family  still  survived,  with  whom  it  might  be  possible 
to  enter  into  communication. 

The  letter,  although  lengthy,  was  perfectly  clear 
and  vigorously  expressed.  Out  of  every  word  that 
she  dictated  to  me  there  spoke  the  relief  of  a  soul 
that  has  found  its  liberty  at  last — that  after  eleven 
years  of  surmises  was  able  at  last  to  take  action. 
I  have  often  since  tried  to  imagine  what  those 
eleven  years  must  have  been  like,  but  have  never 
been  able  to  grasp  it ;  unless  I  may  compare  it  to 
living  shut  up  with  a  dangerous  animal,  whose  face 
one  has  never  seen,  and  the  particulars  of  which 
one  yet  attempts  to  conjecture.  To-day  the  mon- 
ster had  shown  its  features  and,  however  loathsome 
they  were,  I  suppose  there  was  a  sort  of  mild  re- 
lief in  knowing  the  worst.  No  truth  could  be 
more  terrible  than  the  incertitude  which  had  been 
sucking  the  life-blood  from  her.  This,  at  last,  is 
the  only  way  in  which  I  can  explain  to  myself  the 
abrupt  change  in  my  employer. 

That  night  on  my  way  to  bed  I  took  my  candle 


igo  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

into  the  room  which  lay  beside  the  walled-up  en- 
trance, and  held  it  up  to  the  portrait  which  hung 
there.  Since  knowing  the  man's  history  I  felt  a 
need  to  look  in  his  face.  Yes,  that  was  the  face 
of  exactly  the  man  who  would  have  written  those 
letters — remorseful  and  penitent  in  the  first  over- 
whelming shame  of  the  discovery,  querulous  and 
self-pitying  as  the  shock  of  emotion  passed.  No 
man  with  that  mouth  could  be  very  firm  of  will. 
With  the  absence  of  the  warner  the  tottering  re- 
solve would  have  tottered  still  further,  and  after 
his  supposed  death  it  is  quite  conceivable  that,  be- 
lieving himself  free  of  the  sole  witness  of  his 
crime,  the  temptation  of  keeping  both  his  money 
and  the  world's  esteem  had  proved  too  strong  to  be 
resisted.  No  one  would  ever  know  the  details  of 
that  buried  history,  but  with  the  materials  already 
at  hand  it  was  not  hard  to  reconstruct  the  outline. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

NEXT  morning  Jadwiga  appeared  more  animated, 
although  the  heavy  eyelids  spoke  of  tears  shed 
under  cover  of  darkness — tears  of  shame,  as  I  well 
knew.  The  first  stupor  was  passed,  I  could  see, 
and  she  had  caught  sight  of  a  saving  thought. 

"  I  hope  he  will  come  early,"  she  said  to  me,  as 
she  convulsively  pressed  my  hands.  "  He  is  sure 
to  come  early  in  order  to  inquire  after  Mamma. 
I  think  I  shall  feel  better  when  I  have  heard  his 
words  of  sympathy ;  Wladimir  always  finds  the 
right  thing  to  say." 

"  And  you  mean  to  tell  him  everything  ?  "  I 
asked. 

She  looked  at  me  with  boundless  astonishment. 

"  Naturally  ;  how  can  I  have  a  secret  from  him  ? 
Is  he  not  my  future  husband  ?  Does  not  that 
which  touches  me  touch  him  ?  Is  not  my  grief 
his  grief? " 

"  Of  course,  of  course,"  I  said,  a  little  hastily, 
half  ashamed  of  the  thought  which  had  crossed  my 
mind.  "  It  is  evident  that  he  must  know.  But 
you  must  expect  to  see  him  a  good  deal — shaken 
by  the  news." 

"  Shaken,  of  course ;  whatever  shakes  me  could 
191 


192  O  N  E      YE  A  R 

not  leave  him  cold.  But  I  know  that  I  shall  find 
his  hand  ready  to  support  me.  He  shall  be  our 
staff  on  the  thorny  road  we  are  about  to  tread. 
His  sense  of  justice  is  so  keen  that  I  know  he  will 
feel  with  us  that  we  have  no  choice." 

Evidently  it  was  no  use  to  warn  her.  The  pos- 
sibility of  a  disappointment  had  not  even  crossed 
her  mind.  In  her  eagerness  and  the  natural  crav- 
ing for  the  sympathy  that,  of  course,  was  the  most 
precious  to  her,  she  could  scarcely  await  the  mo- 
ment in  which  to  announce  to  her  lover  that  her 
father  had  been  a  scoundrel,  and  that  she  herself 
was  portionless. 

I  held  my  peace  after  that,  although  tormented 
by  vague  presentiments.  What  right,  after  all,  had 
I  to  poison  this  sublime  confidence  ?  Might  not 
she  be  right,  and  I  wrong  ?  How  could  I  say  that 
.his  love  would  not  stand  the  test  it  was  about  to 
be  put  to  ? 

Jadwiga  had  not  very  long  to  wait ;  soon  after 
ten  o'clock  Wladimir  was  at  the  door.  He  began 
by  sending  in  a  discreet  inquiry  regarding  Madame 
Bielinska's  health,  and  a  message  to  say  that  he 
would  return  in  the  afternoon  at  the  usual  hour; 
but  Jadwiga,  unable  to  bear  the  delay,  had  him  in- 
stantly summoned  to  the  drawing-room.  I  ac- 
companied her  only  to  the  door  and  there  some- 
thing made  me  take  her  into  my  arms  and  kiss  her; 
after  that  I  fled  out  into  the  park  in  terror  of  over- 


O  N  E      YE  A  R  193 

hearing  any  word  of  the  painful  explanation  about 
to  take  place.  My  steps  turned  instinctively  to- 
ward the  rose-walk,  but  in  my  present  mood  I 
could  see  no  beauty  in  it ;  to  my  eyes  there  seemed 
to  be  more  thorns  than  roses  to-day,  and  so  busy 
was  my  mind  with  the  tragedy  of  the  past  that  the 
petals  spilled  over-night  upon  the  moist  earth  ap- 
peared to  me  as  pools  of  recently  shed  blood.  In 
the  old  rickety  summerhouse  the  basket  which 
Jadwiga  had  overturned  yesterday  still  lay  on  its 
side,  its  contents  strewn  broadcast  over  the  moss- 
grown  floor.  On  the  table  the  patterns  of  satin 
and  brocade  lay  unheeded ;  one  or  two  had  been 
carried  away  by  the  wind.  I  mechanically  picked 
them  out  of  the  dewy  grass. 

Presently  Anulka  joined  me.  For  some  minutes 
she  walked  in  silence  beside  me ;  then,  having  al- 
most forgotten  her  presence,  I  heard  her  piping 
voice  beside  me. 

"  What  does  cheating  at  cards  mean  exactly  ?  " 

I  turned  with  a  start  to  find  her  bead-like  eyes 
fixed  watchfully  upon  my  face. 

"  What  makes  you  ask  me  that  now  ? "  I  in- 
quired, with  a  dawning  feeling  of  repulsion  upon 
me. 

"Something  that  I  heard  yesterday  when  you 
were  talking  with  Jadwiga  in  her  room." 

"  But  you  were  not  there,"  I  objected,  "  and  the 
door  was  shut." 


I94  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

"  But  the  window  was  open,"  said  Anulka, 
simply. 

This  was  not  the  first  time  that  I  had  caught  my 
pupil  eavesdropping.  She  was  the  sort  of  child 
whose  eyes  and  ears  were  always  wide  open,  eager 
for  excitement  in  any  shape,  and  whose  nervous 
vivacity  kept  her  continually  on  the  move.  She 
would  slip  about  as  noiselessly  and  as  deftly  as  a 
weasel,  appearing  at  the  most  unexpected  places 
and  picking  up  scraps  of  information,  of  which  for- 
tunately she  could  not  digest  the  greater  part. 

Having  administered  a  suitable  admonition,  I 
added  severely  : 

"  Whatever  you  have  heard  you  must  not  speak 
of  it  again,  Anulka.  It  is  a  sad  story  which  you 
cannot  understand." 

"That  is  what  Marya  says,"  replied  Anulka. 
"  She  thinks  I  must  have  heard  wrong,  but  I 
am  sure  I  did  not.  Jadwiga  said  quite  plainly, 
4  But  that  would  be  the  same  as  cheating  at 
cards.' " 

"Then  you  have  spoken  to  Marya,  too?"  I 
asked  with  a  feeling  of  desperation,  foreseeing  that 
the  flood  of  tongues  was  loosened  already. 

"  Of  course,  since  I  had  nobody  else  to  talk  to 
last  night ;  you  could  not  expect  me  to  keep  it  to 
myself,  could  you  ?  But,  dear  Miss  Middleton,do 
tell  me  how  he  did  it.  It  can't  be  easy  to  cheat  at 
cards." 


O  N  E      Y  E  A  R  195 

"  Hush,  not  so  loud !  "  I  said  nervously,  as  I 
looked  about  me. 

"  But  how  did  he  do  it  ? "  she  persisted.  "  I 
want  so  much  to  know." 

I  resisted  a  little  longer,  but  in  the  end  there  was 
nothing  for  it  but  to  tell  her  of  the  looking-glass 
and  of  the  temptation  to  which  her  unhappy  father 
had  yielded.  She  listened  with  keen  attention,  and 
at  the  end,  to  my  horror,  she  clapped  her  hands. 

"  Oh,  w bat  a  good  idea !  "  she  gleefully  ex- 
claimed. "  I  wonder  how  nobody  thought  of  that 
before.  It  just  shows  how  clever  he  was." 

"  Anulka,"  I  cried  in  consternation,  "  what  are 
you  thinking  of?  It  was  so  wrong  a  thing  to  do 
that  your  father  suffered  remorse  for  it  all  his  life." 

"  But  it  was  only  a  game,"  said  Anulka,  with 
perfect  equanimity,  "so  what  could  it  matter?" 

I  attempted  an  explanation,  but  not  with  much 
effect.  She  was  evidently  quite  honest  in  her  ina- 
bility to  see  the  criminal  side  of  the  matter. 

"  In  a  game  surely  every  one  tries  to  get  the  best 
of  it,"  she  objected  to  my  strictures,  "and  if  he 
found  a  better  way  of  doing  so  than  the  others, 
then  why  should  he  not  use  it  ?  If  people  don't 
want  to  lose  money,  then  they  should  not  play 
cards.  But  it  was  stupid  of  him  to  let  himself  be 
caught,"  she  added  in  a  tone  of  disapproval. 

I  gave  up  any  further  attempt,  knowing  by  ex- 
perience that  the  strange  want  of  proportion  in  this 


196  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

curious  child's  ideas  of  morality  was  not  amenable 
to  argument — as  well  discuss  a  difference  of  tints 
with  a  colour-blind  person.  It  was  not  that  she 
loved  evil  for  its  own  sake,  but  that  she  was  in- 
capable of  recognising  it  under  many  of  its  forms. 
I  have  never  held  her  quite  responsible  for  a  mental 
twist,  which,  together  with  her  corporal  defects,  she 
probably  owed  to  the  circumstances  of  her  birth. 

When  at  last  I  regained  the  house  I  found  the 
big  drawing-room  empty,  and  presently  came  upon 
Jadwiga  sitting  alone  on  the  verandah,  with  a  book 
on  her  lap  which  she  was  pretending  to  read.  One 
glance  at  her  face  showed  me  that  the  interview 
had  not  turned  out  exactly  as  she  had  expected.  I 
did  not  say  "  Well  ?  "  but  I  suppose  my  eyes  said  it 
for  me,  for  she  at  once  began  to  speak  rather  hur- 
riedly. 

"  You  were  right,"  she  said  with  a  nervous 
smile  ;  "  he  was  very  much  shaken ;  I  think  almost 
more  than  I  thought  he  would  be.  But  that  is 
natural ;  it  came  upon  him  with  such  a  surprise, 
just  as  it  came  upon  me.  By  this  afternoon  he 
will  have  had  time  to  recover  from  the  first 
shock." 

"  He  is  gone  ?  "  I  inquired. 

"  Yes,  of  course ;  he  only  came  in  now  to  in- 
quire after  Mamma;  he  was  on  his  way  to  one  of 
the  farms — he  has  to  replace  his  father  now,  you 
know,  but  he  is  coming  back  as  usual." 


ONE      YEAR  197 

I  put  a  few  more  questions  tentatively,  and,  al- 
though Jadwiga's  answers  were  unusually  reserved, 
I  yet  managed  to  get  a  pretty  clear  picture  of  the 
interview  just  passed.  Evidently  Wladimir  had 
been  more  than  shaken,  he  had  been  simply  over- 
whelmed by  the  revelation  made  to  him,  and,  there- 
fore, not  in  a  fit  state  to  offer  any  support  to  Jad- 
wiga's own  distress.  He  had  obviously  been  too 
horror-stricken  to  make  any  direct  response  to  her 
wild  appeal,  and  in  the  first  moment  unable  to  do 
anything,  poor  boy,  but  protest  his  unchanged  af- 
fection. All  this  was  natural  enough  considering 
his  youth  and  the  terrible  nature  of  the  disclosure 
made ;  but  what  disturbed  me  was  Jadwiga's  evi- 
dent anxiety  to  excuse  him,  and  the  look  of  per- 
plexed astonishment  which  had  remained  upon  her 
face  since  her  parting  with  him. 

"  I  think  I  must  have  told  him  too  abruptly," 
she  said.  "  I  am  always  so  impatient.  Wladimir 
is  so  entirely  the  soul  of  honour  that,  of  course, 
this  frightful  disgrace  makes  him  lose  his  head  just 
at  first,"  and  all  the  time  she  was  watching  my 
face,  as  though  for  corroboration  of  her  own  sen- 
timents. 

As  the  hour  approached  at  which  Wladimir's 
appearance  was  to  be  expected  I  could  see  that  a 
creeping  uneasiness  began  to  take  hold  of  Jadwiga, 
an  uneasiness  which  she  was  anxious  to  hide  even 
from  me,  to  whom  her  heart  had  yet  been  so  com- 


198  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

pletely  open  lately.  But  she  was  not  made  for 
concealment ;  at  every  moment  I  could  see  her 
furtively  consulting  the  jewelled  toy  of  a  watch  that 
hung  at  her  belt,  while  the  transparency  of  the  pre- 
texts she  found  for  visiting  the  verandah,  from 
where  a  view  of  the  gate  was  to  be  commanded, 
was  not  calculated  to  deceive  even  a  child.  Wlad- 
imir  had  never  been  late  before,  and  it  was  curious 
certainly  that  to-day  of  all  days  he  should  tarry 
behind  the  hour.  To  me  it  was  evident  that  Jad- 
wiga  was  suffering  acutely,  but  it  was  clear  also 
that  nothing  would  yet  induce  her  to  put  her  fears 
into  words — doubtless  the  thought  of  doing  so  must 
have  appeared  to  her  as  a  treachery  toward  the  man 
in  whose  loyalty  she  still  believed  with  all  the  ar- 
dour of  her  young  and  romantically  generous 
heart.  The  mere  conception  of  his  failing  her  in 
her  need  lay  too  far  away  from  her  own  attitude  of 
mind  to  be  grasped  in  so  short  a  time. 

"  He  has  been  prevented  by  some  accident,"  she 
said  to  me  once  when  our  eyes  met.  "  I  fear  he 
may  have  fallen  from  his  horse ;  that  is  what  makes 
me  so  uneasy."  And  she  looked  at  me  as  though 
daring  me  to  throw  doubt  upon  this  assertion. 

I  spent  the  afternoon  between  the  garden  and 
the  house.  Madame  Bielinska  had  a  little  collapsed 
after  the  unusual  strain  of  yesterday,  but,  although 
she  remained  in  her  room,  it  was  not  in  her  usual 
state  of  inaction.  Every  time  I  presented  myself 


O  N  E      Y  E  A  R  199 

there  to  see  whether  she  required  anything  I  found 
her  busy  sorting  papers  and  going  over  accounts. 
It  was  evident  that  she,  too,  was  looking  out  for 
Wladimir's  arrival. 

"  Is  he  not  there  yet  ?  "  she  asked  me  each  time 
I  entered.  "  Be  sure  to  send  him  in  immediately. 
I  want  to  ask  him  about  his  father's  plans  and 
about  when  he  is  expected  back.  It  is  he  who  will 
be  most  likely  to  give  me  a  clue.  Is  that  not 
Wladimir  ?  "  and  she  lent  an  ear  to  a  sound  in  the 
passage.  "  No,  only  Andrej's  step.  By  the  way, 
Miss  Middleton,  I  have  promised  Andrej  to  send 
some  mustard  plasters  to  his  wife — she  has  a  pain 
in  her  chest,  it  seems.  If  you  want  a  walk  per- 
haps you  would  be  so  good  as  to  take  them  to  her, 
and  also  show  her  how  to  put  them  on  ?  " 

The  grey-haired  footman  was  a  married  man, 
whose  domestic  hearth,  whither  he  returned  every 
day  at  night-fall,  was  situated  at  the  far  end  of  the 
village.  The  fact  of  Madame  Bielinska  charging 
me  with  an  errand  of  the  sort  was  to  me  an  addi- 
tional proof  of  the  revolution  produced  by  yester- 
day's events.  Her  interest,  even  in  the  details  of 
life,  seemed  to  have  abruptly  revived — and  to  think 
that  it  was  the  discovery  of  her  husband's  disgrace 
which  had  given  back  to  her  her  power  of  living  ! 
Surely  the  human  heart  can  never  be  quite  ex- 
plained. 

It  was   drawing   toward   evening   by   this   time, 


200  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

and  the  chances  of  seeing  Wladimir  again  that  day 
were  fast  fading.  I  went  in  search  of  Jadwiga, 
assured  that  the  walk  would  do  her  good,  but  at  the 
mere  suggestion  she  shrank  back. 

"  Outside  the  gate  ?  Oh,  no,  I  could  not  go 
outside  the  gate,"  she  said.  "  I  should  feel  as 
though  every  one  knew  the  story  already." 

I  next  looked  out  for  Anulka,  whom  I  had  not 
seen  for  some  time.  It  was  in  the  big  drawing- 
room  that  I  found  her,  installed  in  front  of  a  green 
table,  and  going  through  some  strange  manipula- 
tions with  a  pack  of  playing-cards.  So  engrossed 
was  she  in  her  game  that  she  did  not  notice  my  ap- 
proach, and  it  was  only  when  I  stood  close  beside 
her  that  I  understood  what  she  was  doing,  for 
straight  opposite  hung  the  long  rococo  mirror,  in 
which  she  was  amusing  herself  by  reflecting  the 
undersides  of  the  cards  in  her  hand,  naming  them 
aloud  as  she  did  so,  and  then  turning  them  over  to 
see  if  she  was  right. 

"Ten  of  clubs — knave  of  diamonds,"  she  kept 
on  saying  like  a  lesson ;  and  then  burst  into  a  little 
squeal  of  delight  whenever  she  saw  that  it  tallied. 

"  Leave  that,  Anulka ! "  I  said  indignantly, 
snatching  the  cards  from  her  hands,  but  she  only 
grinned  up  delightedly  into  my  face. 

"  It  is  quite  easy,"  she  assured  me  eagerly.  "  I 
believe  I  could  do  it,  too.  Look !  You  have 
only  to  hold  them  like  this." 


ONE      YEAR  201 

I  wanted  to  insist  on  her  coming  out  with  me, 
but,  perhaps  because  of  my  nerves  being  off  their 
balance,  my  authority  failed,  and  when  a  few  min- 
utes later  I  passed  by  the  open  window  I  could 
still  hear  the  voice  of  the  uncanny  child  de- 
claiming, "  Seven  of  hearts — six  of  clubs — queen 
of " 

Andrej's  hut  lay  near  the  big  fish  pond  and  down 
a  narrow  lane  confined  between  high  palings  of 
wattled  willows.  The  willows,  which  had  orig- 
inally served  as  stakes,  had,  for  the  most  part,  taken 
root  too,  and  grown  up  into  considerable  trees  of 
the  pollard  order,  whose  headi  almost  met  across 
the  lane,  which,  consequently,  was  not  very  light, 
even  at  noonday.  Just  now,  when  it  was  dusk  in 
the  chief  village  street,  it  was  almost  dark  here, 
and,  seen  through  the  descending  shadows,  the  ir- 
regularly grown  willows,  with  their  round  tops  and 
queerly  contorted  branches,  had  something  weirdly 
human  about  them. 

I  had  discharged  my  errand  and  was  returning 
along  this  gloomy  and  tortuous  passage  when,  on 
coming  round  a  corner  of  the  paling,  I  was  startled 
to  see  what  seemed  to  be  one  of  the  willow  trees 
step  out  of  its  place  and  stand  still  in  the  middle 
of  the  road,  as  though  to  bar  the  passage.  I  stood 
still  instinctively,  but  at  that  moment  the  willow 
spoke  in  a  well-known  voice. 

"  It  is  I,  Miss  Middleton,  do  not  be  angry,  but  I 


202 ONE      YEAR 

saw  you  passing,  and  followed  you  here,  because  I 
must  speak  to  you." 

The  tone  was  so  deeply  moved  that  it  somewhat 
modified  the  displeasure  with  which  I  answered, 

"  You,  Pan  Lewicki  ?  Why  here,  and  not  at 
the  house  ?  We  have  been  expecting  you  all  the 
afternoon." 

"  I  know,  I  know  ! "  he  said,  wildly  grasping  at 
his  temples  as  he  spoke.  "  I  have  been  close  at 
hand  for  hours,  but  how  could  I  present  myself 
before  I  had  got  absolute  clearness  in  this  terrible 
affair?  I  kept  hoping  for  some  chance;  I  wanted 
to  speak  to  you  before  I  spoke  to  her,  and  now 
that  fortune  has  favoured  me  you  will  not  refuse 
to  tell  me  all  you  know.  I  am  mad  !  I  tell  you, 
mad  with  perplexity,  and  only  the  fullest  light  can 
help  me." 

"But  you  have  had  the  fullest  light,"  I  an- 
swered sadly.  "  Jadwiga  says  that  she  told  you 
all." 

"  Then  it  is  true,  actually  true  ?  "  he  questioned 
distractedly.  "  I  thought  that  perhaps  her  imagi- 
nation had  run  wild.  She  spoke  of  letters,  but  I 
did  not  see  them — have  you  seen  them  ?  Tell  me 
what  is  written  there — every  word  you  can  re- 
member. After  all  I  have  a  right  to  know." 

There  was  no  denying  this,  he  had  the  right  to 
know.  In  a  few  words  I  gave  him  my  version  of 
the  case,  as  well  as  the  conclusions  drawn  by 


O  N  E      Y  E  A  R  203 

Madame  Bielinska.  He  listened  breathlessly,  often 
interrupting  me  with  exclamations  of  distress  and 
astonishment. 

"  Then  there  is  no  doubt  at  all  in  your  mind  ?  " 
he  asked  in  a  tone  of  acute  anxiety.  "  Her  father 
was  no,  I  cannot  say  it  here,  not  even  in  a  strange 
tongue,  for  fear  of  listening  ears." 

"  You  need  not  be  so  careful !  "  I  replied,  "  it 
would  be  wasted  pains.  Soon  if  I  am  not  mis- 
taken, what  I  have  told  you  to-day  will  be  pro- 
claimed upon  the  House-tops, — they  themselves  will 
proclaim  it." 

He  looked  at  me  aghast;  even  in  the  thick  dusk 
I  could  see  his  brown  eyes  open  wide. 

"  They  themselves  ?  You  do  not  mean  to  say 
that  they  will  tell  the  world  the  story  ?  " 

u  The  mother  certainly  will ;  indeed  she  must  if 
she  wants  to  make  restitution,  and  that  is  her  one 
idea  at  present." 

"  Restitution,  yes,  but  need  it  be  public  ?  Why 
brand  oneself  with  one's  own  hands  ?  Surely  no 
one  need  know  but  the  wronged  man  alone  ?  " 

"  But  the  wronged  man  has  to  be  searched  for 
first,  and  that  scarcely  can  be  done  in  secret.  And, 
beside,  how  would  you  explain  to  the  world  this 
sudden  change  of  fortune  ?  No,  I  fear  that  ex- 
posure is  inevitable." 

I  could  see  how  at  the  word  "  exposure "  he 
shrank  back,  as  though  at  some  unpleasant  touch. 


204  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

Then,  suddenly,  a  paroxysm  of  despair  seemed  to 
seize  him.  We  had  been  slowly  walking  on  dur- 
ing those  last  minutes.  Now  Wladimir  stood  still 
abruptly.  Close  beside  him  there  was  a  big  stone, 
one  of  those  used  as  stiles  in  crossing  the  pailing, 
for  there  were  no  openings  all  along  the  lane. 
Wladimir  sat  down  upon  this,  and  there  before  my 
eyes  he  burst  into  tears. 

"  Oh  Jadwiga !  my  poor,  poor  Jadwiga  !  "  he 
sobbed,  evidently  from  the  bottom  of  his  heart. 
"  How  will  you  bear  it  ?  " 

"  She  bears  it  bravely,"  I  said,  looking  down  at 
him  curiously,  "  and  the  support  of  your  love  will 
help  her  to  bear  it  better  still." 

I  don't  know  with  what  intention  I  said  this, 
but  I  believe  it  was  by  way  of  experiment. 

He  buried  his  face  a  little  deeper  in  his  hands. 

"  Be  still !  "  he  said,  in  a  tone  of  real  suffering. 
"  You  don't  know  how  you  hurt  me,  oh  pray  be 
still!" 

"  But  do  you  love  her  ?  "  I  asked,  a  little  merci- 
lessly perhaps. 

"With  all  my  heart,"  he  readily  replied.  Then, 
rising  to  his  feet,  "  You  tell  her  that,  will  you 
not  ?  "  and  in  his  eagerness  he  laid  his  hand  on  my 
arm.  "  You  tell  her  I  love  her  as  deeply  as  ever  ?  " 

"  Why  do  you  not  tell  her  so  yourself?"  I 
asked.  "  Come  with  me  now  and  you  will  need 
no  messenger." 


O  N  E      Y  E  A  R  205 

"  Not  to-day,"  he  said  quickly.  "  I  am  not  yet 
enough  master  of  myself  to-day.  How  do  I  know 
that  in  my  trouble  of  mind  I  may  not  use  some 
word  that  would  wound  her  ?  No,  it  is  better  not 
to-day." 

And,  as  though  afraid  of  further  argument,  he 
turned  and  walked  away  hastily,  quickly  disappear- 
ing in  the  gloom  of  the  narrow  lane,  in  which  I 
was  left  standing  alone,  but  very  busy  with  my 
thoughts. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

I  DID  not  give  Jadwiga  Wladimir's  message, 
nor  did  I  even  mention  to  her  my  meeting  with 
him  in  the  village.  To  do  so  would  only  have 
been  to  augment  the  suspense  she  was  evidently 
undergoing.  If  my  suspicions  were  correct,  then 
she  would  soon  know  more  than  I  could  tell  her. 
But  the  end  was  nearer  than  I  imagined. 

On  the  following  forenoon  I  was  busy  with 
Anulka  in  the  schoolroom,  when  the  door  was 
flung  open,  and  Jadwiga  entered,  holding  an  open 
letter  in  her  hand.  I  had  seen  her  in  various 
moods,  but  never  in  anything  resembling  this. 
Her  black  eyes  flamed  in  a  face  of  an  almost 
corpse-like  whiteness,  her  dilated  nostrils  worked, 
and  she  was  evidently  breathing  with  difficulty.  I 
rose  in  alarm,  interrogating  her  with  my  eyes,  and 
fully  prepared  for  a  calamity. 

She  could  not  speak  immediately,  but  with  a 
silent  and  imperative  gesture  she  indicated  her 
sister,  and  I  understood  and  ordered  Anulka  from 
the  room,  taking  the  precaution  this  time  of  shut- 
ting the  window  as  well  as  the  door. 

"  Here  !  "  said  Jadwiga,  at  last,  in  a  voice  that 
she  was  evidently  struggling  to  keep  low,  but 
206 


O  N  E      Y  E  A  R  207 

which  vibrated  in  every  tone.  "  It  has  come;  read 
this  !  " 

"  But  this  is  written  in  Polish  !  "  I  said,  glancing 
at  the  sheet  she  held  toward  me. 

"  To  be  sure,  I  forgot ;  I  think  I  must  be  a  little 
mad.  Well,  an  outline  will  do ;  it  isn't  difficult 
to  understand.  He  loves  me  as  much  as  ever — so 
it  is  written  here — he  never  can  be  happy  again  in 
his  life — do  you  want  to  know  why  ?  Because  his 
duty  as  a  son  calls  upon  him  to  keep  himself  clear 
of  the  stain  which  has  revealed  itself  on  our  family 
shield.  His  father  would  never  survive  the  shame 
of  being  brought  into  connection  with  anything  that 
smells  of  dishonour — he  doesn't  say  it  like  that, 
you  know,  it  is  much  more  beautifully  expressed, 
but  that  is  what  it  means — and  his  conscience, 
with  which  he  has  been  struggling  since  yesterday, 
forbids  him  to  bring  those  white  hairs  to  the  grave. 
There  is  a  great  deal  more  about  the  agony  of 
tearing  out  one's  own  heart  with  one's  own  hands, 
and  there  is  also  a  gleam  of  hope  held  out.  If  the 
matter  could  be  kept  dark,  if  the  restitution  could 
be  made  in  secret,  might  it  not  be  possible  to  escape 
the  shame,  both  for  ourselves  and  for  him  ?  He 
implores  me  to  think  over  the  matter  once  more, 
to  induce  my  mother  to  think  it  over;  it  is  the 
only  chance  of  happiness  he  can  see,  for  if  there 
was  no  exposure  then  there  would  be  no  shame  in 
the  eyes  of  the  world ;  and  he  loves  me  so  much 


208  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

that  he  is  ready  to  bear  the  secret  knowledge  of  my 
father's  guilt — but  only  so  long  as  it  remains 
secret,  you  understand.  In  other  words  he  wants 
to  bargain  with  me — with  me,  Eleanor !  He  makes 
his  conditions,  he  calculates  his  sacrifices :  he  will 
go  thus  far  and  no  farther :  my  love  is  worth  this  to 
him,  and  not  that.  Great  God,  why  is  the  shame 
not  his  instead  of  mine  ?  Why  was  not  his  father 
a  thief  or  a  forger,  that  he  should  see,  and  the 
world  should  see  that  love,  the  real  love,  is  able  to 
laugh  at  everything  outside  itself?  But  this  love 
— this  !  " — and  she  flung  the  paper  contemptuously 
on  the  table — "  this  has  the  worth  of  the  paper  and 
ink  it  is  written  with,  no  more  !  Oh,  Eleanor, 
are  all  men  like  that  ? " 

She  had  spoken  in  short  sentences,  fetching  her 
breath  audibly  at  each  pause :  by  degrees  only  her 
broken  voice  rose  to  a  shriller  key,  and  the  passion- 
ate sentences  grew  more  fluent.  In  the  last  words 
there  was  a  ring  of  such  heart-rending  despair  that 
I  felt  tears  of  acute  pity  starting  to  my  eyes. 

"  Not  all,"  I  said  gently,  and  as  I  said  it  I 
thought  of  two  men — one  was  Henry,  dead  to  me 
now,  but  of  whom  I  instinctively  knew  that,  sup- 
posing he  had  gained  me,  nothing  short  of  death 
would  have  induced  him  to  give  me  up  again;  the 
other  was  Krysztof  Malewicz.  This  one,  too,  I 
had  not  even  put  to  the  test,  but  felt  calmly  certain 
of  the  result. 


O  N  E      Y  E  A  R  209 

"I  am  dismissed,"  went  on  Jadwiga,  fixing  her 
dangerously  brilliant  eyes  upon  me — "you  under- 
stand ;  I  am  told  that  I  am  not  worth  the  loss  of 
the  world's  esteem,  and  the  man  who  tells  me  so 
is  the  same  whom  I  believed  was  ready  to  die  at 
my  slightest  word — he  has  told  me  so  a  hundred 
times.  What  have  I  done  to  be  punished  for  my 
father's  sin  ?  Am  I  different  from  what  I  was  be- 
fore those  letters  came  ?  Have  I  different  eyes  than 
then,  a  different  mouth,  a  different  mind  ?  Am  I 
less  desirable  ?  His  duty  to  his  father  !  Oh,  it 
enrages  me  to  hear  him  talk  of  it ;  what  is  his  duty 
to  his  father  compared  to  his  duty  toward  me,  who 
was  to  have  been  his  wife  ?  Oh,  how  badly  we 
have  understood  each  other  all  the  time  !  Wladi- 
mir,  Wladimir,  what  would  I  not  have  done  for 
you — no,  not  for  you^  but  for  the  man  I  believed 
you  were ! " 

And,  with  features  convulsed  with  pain,  she  let 
herself  drop  on  to  the  chair  which  Anulka  had 
quitted,  and,  laying  her  face  on  the  table,  sobbed 
convulsively  yet  without  tears. 

Presently  she  looked  up.  "Tell  me,  Eleanor," 
she  asked  in  a  voice  exhausted  by  emotion,  "  did 
you  know  it  would  come  like  this  ?  Why  do  you 
look  so  little  surprised  ?  " 

"  I  could  not  know  it  would  come  like  this,  but 
I  am  not  very  much  surprised.  It  seems  to  me  the 
only  thing  that  Wladimir  could  do — wait  a  mo- 


210  ONE      YEAR 

ment,"  I  added,  seeing  her  look  of  surprised  indig- 
nation— "  I  don't  mean  what  he  could  do,  being  a 
man,  but  being  Wladimir." 

"  Then  his  love  for  me  has  been  a  farce  ?  " 

"  No,  not  a  farce ;  although  it  is  not  enough  for 
you,  it  has  been  the  best  he  can  give.  What  he 
writes  here  isn't  a  lie,  he  loves  you,  but  it  is  simply 
that  he  has  not  got  the  mental  vigour  necessary  to 
do  without  the  world's  esteem,  not  that  sort  of 
grim  sturdiness  which  makes  it  possible  to  defy 
public  opinion.  He  is  not  a  monster  of  any  sort, 
and,  Jadwiga,  my  poor  child,  believe  me,  he  never 
was  worthy  of  you." 

"Why  do  you  call  me  poor?"  she  retorted  in 
an  instant.  "  I  am  not  to  be  pitied,  it  seems  to 
Aie  I  am  to  be  envied,  since  I  have  discovered  in 
time  to  what  a  weakling  I  was  about  to  sacrifice 
myself.  I  might  have  been  bound  to  him  for  life 
before  the  discovery  came.  But  it  hurts  here,  it 
hurts  here  all  the  same,"  and  she  laid  her  clenched 
hand  on  her  heart.  "  It  is  like  seeing  a  friend  die ; 
my  Wladimir  is  dead  to-day,  and  nothing  can  ever 
make  him  alive  again." 

After  that,  for  some  moments,  she  sank  into 
silence,  brooding,  with  her  eyes  on  the  table. 
Suddenly,  a  hard  smile  flickered  across  her  face, 
worse  to  see  than  the  look  of  pain  of  a  minute 
ago. 

"  And  this  Wladimir  thinks  I  shall  grasp  at  the 


ONE      YEAR 211 

hope  he  holds  out  !  Secrecy — dead  secrecy — on 
that  condition  he  may  yet  consent  to  make  me 
happy,  and  he  does  not  yet  know  that  I  want  none 
of  that  happiness.  Quick,  Eleanor,  quick — paper 
and  pen  !  The  messenger  is  still  outside  ;  he  must 
not  be  left  in  his  false  belief  for  one  minute  longer 
than  can  be  helped.  Oh,  give  me  any  paper 
quickly  !  " 

The  colour  was  flowing  over  her  face  now,  as, 
with  fingers  which  more  than  trembled,  which 
visibly  jerked  with  excitement,  she  dipped  the  pen 
into  the  ink  and  began  writing  hastily  on  the  sheet 
I  pushed  toward  her.  What  she  exactly  said  in 
the  few  lines  which  formed  all  the  answer  to 
Wladimir's  lengthy  epistle,  I  do  not  know,  but  as 
I  watched  her  quivering  lips  and  the  light  that 
escaped  like  sparks  of  fire  from  under  her  black 
eyelashes,  I  know  that,  despite  the  contemptuous 
indignation  in  my  heart,  I  felt  sorry  for  the  man 
who  was  to  read  those  lines,  and  who,  after  all, 
loved  her  as  well  as  he  understood  how  to  love. 

"  There  actually  is  something  to  be  said  in  his 
excuse,"  I  find  myself  writing  at  this  juncture  to 
Agnes,  to  whom  I  had  already  given  a  brief  out- 
line of  the  situation,  "  for  the  test  he  was  put  to 
was  no  light  one,  and  how  make  him  responsible 
for  the  limitations  of  his  nature  ?  I  had  taken  his 
measure  long  ago,  and  I  now  see  that  I  had  taken 
it  correctly.  When  a  man  is  so  distinctly,  I  should 


212  O  N  E      YE  A  R 

like  to  say,  so  ostentatiously,  ornamental,  it  awakes 
the  idea,  does  it  not,  that  he  must  almost  necessarily 
be  rather  useless  ?  Ask  this  sort  of  man  to  turn 
music  and  to  hand  cups — oh,  yes,  by  all  means — 
but  not  to  stand  firm  in  a  moral  earthquake.  He 
seems  to  me  to  want  an  audience  for  everything  he 
does — an  admiring  one,  of  course.  He  lives 
chronically  on  a  platform,  and  requires  to  be  ap- 
plauded. This  it  is  that  makes  him  so  intensely 
dependent  on  other  people's  opinion,  and  this  it  is 
also  that  makes  him  spare  no  pains  in  order  to  win 
sympathy.  I  understand  perfectly  now  how  he 
could  spend  an  hour  with  me  on  that  tree  trunk  in 
autumn,  and  what  made  him  wade  into  the  muddy 
water  to  fetch  out  Anulka.  He  loved  Jadwiga 
then  already,  but  it  was  not  only  because  he  loved 
her  that  he  sacrificed  his  boots,  it  was  also  to  tri- 
umphantly refute  the  accusation  of  effeminacy 
which  I  had  just  been  pronouncing  against  his 
nation.  He  is  so  hungry  of  approval  that  he  will 
jump  up  to  take  Kasia's  basket  for  her,  since  even 
a  kitchen-maid's  sympathy  is  precious  to  him.  All 
this  sort  of  thing  gives  him  the  appearance  of  al- 
ways thinking  of  others,  so  much  so  that  most 
people  never  find  out  that  he  is  only  a  more  refined, 
I  should  like  to  say,  a  more  artistic,  egoist  from  the 
usual  kind.  He  would  not  harm  anybody  for  the 
world,  I  am  sure  of  that ;  he  is  ready  to  sacrifice 
even  his  comforts  to  his  fellow-creatures  so  long  as 


ONE      YEAR  213 

he  is  rewarded  by  their  love  and  esteem.  I  ab- 
solve him  from  any  mercenary  motives  in  his  pres- 
ent conduct.  I  never  suspected  him  of  wanting 
Jadwiga's  money,  and  I  do  not  accuse  him  of 
abandoning  her  because  he  finds  out  that  the  money 
is  not  hers ;  mere  money  and  mere  physical  com- 
fort have  no  intense  value  for  him.  It  is  not  these 
things,  but  popularity,  which  is  his  passion.  How 
could  you  expect  such  a  man  to  take  upon  himself 
the  disgrace  which  will  for  ever  attach  to  the  name 
of  Bielinski  ?  And  how  should  he  ever  live  up  to 
Jadwiga's  exalted  ideals,  or  satisfy  the  really  ex- 
travagant demands  she  makes  upon  a  man's  devo- 
tion ?  I  believe  she's  right,  and  that  she  is  to  be 
congratulated  instead  of  condoled  with  on  having 
found  out  her  mistake  in  time." 

I  have  only  a  few  more  words  to  say  of 
Wladimir  before  he  disappears  from  the  scene  of 
the  drama  which  I  am  attempting  to  present. 
After  our  meeting  in  the  village  I  only  saw  him 
once  more,  and,  to  the  best  of  my  knowledge, 
this  was  also  the  last  time  that  Jadwiga  set  eyes 
upon  him. 

I  never  imagined  that,  after  the  exchange  of  let- 
ters, he  would  have  the  courage  to  show  his  face  at 
Ludniki,  but  I  was  mistaken.  Those  few  lines  of 
which  I  had  watched  the  writing  had  evidently 
acted  like  the  sting  of  a  whip-cord,  for,  on  the 
evening  of  that  same  day,  Jadwiga  and  I,  coming 


214  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

back  slowly  along  the  rose-walk,  where  I  had  in- 
duced her  to  take  an  evening  stroll,  saw  a  well- 
known  figure  advancing  toward  us.  Jadwiga 
checked  her  steps  for  just  a  perceptible  interval, 
and  I  saw  the  colour  leaving  her  face.  Then  she 
walked  on  as  before,  only  tightening  her  hold  upon 
my  arm,  within  which  her  hand  lay. 

"  Shall  I  tell  him  that  you  cartnot  receive  him  ?  " 
I  whispered,  for  there  still  was  time  for  her  to  turn 
off  by  a  side  walk. 

"  For  what  good  ?  "  she  replied  in  a  voice  that 
sounded  only  a  little  more  metallic  than  usual. 
"  I  am  not  afraid  of  meeting  him  ;  it  is  better  so." 

Although  she  was  not  afraid,  it  was  evident  that 
he  was.  As  he  drew  near,  the  perturbation  on  his 
features  was  easy  to  read,  but  greater  than  the  per- 
turbation was  a  sort  of  acute  anxiety  which  seemed 
to  dominate  every  other  emotion. 

When  she  was  within  half-a-dozen  paces  of  him 
Jadwiga  stood  still,  and,  with  a  coolness  so  icy  that 
it  actually  sent  a  shiver  of  compassion  down  my 
back — compassion  for  the  man  to  whom  it  was  ad- 
dressed— put  some  questions  in  Polish.  I  under- 
stood enough  of  the  language  by  this  time  to  guess 
that  she  was  asking  whether  he  had  not  received 
her  letter. 

When  he  at  length  succeeded  in  speaking  he  did 
so  with  almost  incoherent  eagerness.  He  explained 
chat  it  was  just  because  he  had  got  the  letter  that 


O  N  E      YE  A  R  215 

he  was  here — that  he  could  not  believe  that  she  was 
serious  in  what  she  had  written ;  then  a  few  more 
words  in  an  imploring  tone  before  I  caught  the 
word  "  father." 

"Will  you  believe  it,  if  you  hear  me  speak  it?  " 
asked  Jadwiga.  "  No,  you  shall  stay  there,"  she 
said  turning  almost  fiercely  upon  me,  for,  painfully 
conscious  of  the  superfluity  of  my  presence,  I  had 
been  meanwhile  gently  trying  to  disengage  my  arm, 
but  Jadwiga's  delicate  fingers  held  me  as  though 
they  had  been  steel  claws.  "  I  have  no  secrets  to 
talk  about  to  Mr.  Lewicki,"  she  continued,  talking 
now  in  French.  "  I  am  glad  to  have  a  witness  to 
what  I  have  to  say,  and  it  is  this  :  that  hencefor- 
ward this  gentleman  is  of  no  more  account  to  me 
than  the  least  of  the  peasants  who  bend  their  heads 
before  me  on  the  road — oh,  of  much  less — for 
many  of  them  are  brave  and  honourable  men, 
while  you,"  and  she  fixed  her  flaming  eyes  full  on 
his  face — "  I  do  not  care  who  hears  me — you  are 
a  coward — a  traitor  and  a  coward — and,  although  I 
should  live  to  be  a  hundred  years,  I  shall  never  for- 
give myself  for  having  loved  you.J> 

At  this  his  perturbation  seemed  to  vanish  for  a 
time,  forced  back  by  the  insult  to  his  pride.  His 
fair  face  flushed  dark  red  up  to  his  golden  hair 
roots,  and  I  saw  his  fingers  closing  against  his 
palms.  In  that  moment  he  looked  anything  but 
despicable. 


216  ONE      YEAR 

"  If  a  man  were  to  say  that  to  me — "  he  began 
with  difficulty,  but  she  interrupted  him. 

"You  would  invite  him  to  cross  swords  with 
you,  and  would  imagine  that  that  washed  you  clean 
of  the  name  of  coward.  Bah  !  it  is  not  of  that  sort 
of  courage  I  am  talking ;  that  is  the  common,  the 
vulgar  sort ;  every  man  who  is  not  a  Jew  and  not  a 
cripple  has  plenty  of  that,  I  make  no  doubt.  I 
speak  of  the  rarer,  nobler  courage,  the  courage  of 
the  heart;  and  you  cannot  give  me  the  lie  with 
your  sword  in  your  hand  because  I  am  not  a 
man,  only  a  woman,  whom  one  does  not  fight,  but 
whom  one  can  betray  and  abandon,  and  leave 
standing  alone  in  the  moment  when  she  most  needs 
support." 

There  was  a  slight  vibration  in  her  voice,  and 
before  this  momentary  evidence  of  emotion  Wladi- 
mir's  indignant  attitude  instantly  succumbed. 

"Jadwiga,  Jadwiga  !  "  he  cried,  taking  his 
head  between  his  hands.  "  Do  not  judge  me  so 
harshly ;  do  not  be  so  absolutely  merciless  ! 
Could  you  expect  me  to  kill  my  father  by  this 
sorrow  ?  " 

"  I  expect  everything  of  the  man  who  loves  me," 
she  replied  with  as  magnificent  a  disdain  as  though 
she  did  not  know  herself  to  be  almost  a  beggar, 
with  a  knave  for  a  father. 

"Jadwiga,  be  merciful!"  cried  the  unhappy 
man  again  distractedly.  There  were  tears  in  his 


ONE      YEAR  217 

eyes,  but  there  were  none  in  hers ;  and  yet  there 
was  a  little  pain  on  her  face,  too,  as  she  gazed  at 
him  across  the  few  paces  of  ground  that  divided 
them.  No  doubt  she  was  taking  her  last  look  at 
her  Wladimir,  who,  after  all,  bore  the  same  face 
and  form  as  the  one  that  stood  before  her. 

"  If  it  were  only  myself  I  had  to  think  of — " 
he  began  again. 

"  I  know — I  know,  you  told  me  all  that  in  your 
letter,"  said  Jadwiga.  "  It  seems  to  me  that  the 
subject  is  exhausted,"  and  she  began  to  move  on 
again,  taking  me  with  her.  But  this  seemed  to 
make  Wladimir  wild. 

"  Stop  !  stop  !  "  he  implored  her,  standing  so  as 
to  bar  our  passage.  "  Say  at  least  that  you  believe 
in  my  love — you  must  see  that  I  am  suffering. 
Circumstances  are  too  strong  for  me,  but  this  I 
know,  that  I  shall  never  love  another  woman  as  I 
have  loved  you." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  will  say  that  I  believe  in  your 
love,"  answered  Jadwiga  readily  and  indifferently, 
"  if  that  is  any  satisfaction  to  you ;  only  it  is  not 
the  same  sort  of  thing  that  goes  by  that  name  with 
me.  Our  opinions  on  that  subject  evidently  lie  too 
far  apart  to  make  a  discussion  of  any  use." 

"  And  that  you  do  not  despise  me — that  you  can 
understand  my  motives,  even  if  you  do  not  sub- 
scribe to  them.  I  could  not  bear  to  live  with  the 
thought  of  your  contempt !  " 


2i8  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

This,  then,  was  the  real  kernel  of  the  matter. 
To  lose  the  esteem  of  the  person  he  certainly  held 
highest  in  the  world,  what  agony  this  thought  must 
have  brought  to  the  Wladimir  whom  I  had  just 
been  describing  to  Agnes.  This  it  was  which  had 
given  him  the  courage  to  brave  Jadwiga's  anger  by 
presenting  himself  once  more.  He  had  come  here 
not  to  beg  to  be  taken  back  into  favour,  but  to 
wring  from  her  some  faint  and  far-off  admission 
of  esteem — a  word,  not  of  forgiveness,  but  of 
justification.  But  he  might  have  known  Jadwiga 
better. 

Without  replying  she  again  moved  a  step  for- 
ward, and  this  time,  in  terror  of  seeing  her  escape 
before  the  saving  word  was  spoken,  Wladimir  for- 
got himself  so  far  as  to  lay  his  hand  upon  her  sleeve, 
as  within  the  last  weeks  he  had  done  so  often  with 
impunity. 

"  No,  no  !  "  he  cried,  "  you  shall  not  go  until 
you  have  said  that  you  understand." 

I  felt  a  more  convulsive  movement  of  the  hand 
on  my  arm,  as  Jadwiga,  standing  still  again,  slowly 
looked  her  lover  all  over. 

44  Shall  not  go  ?  "  she  repeated,  and  the  disdain 
in  voice  and  eyes  was  such  that  I  wondered 
the  man  could  bear  it.  "  Do  you  not  forget  that 
I  am  in  my  home,  and  that  there  are  servants 
enough  in  the  house  ?  aye,  and  with  strong  amis, 
too  !  " 


O  N  E      YE  A  R  219 

Then,  as  he  fell  back,  as  though  before  a  blow, 
she  walked  past  him  without  either  another  word 
or  another  glance,  without  even  hastening  her  pace, 
as  she  leisurely  pursued  her  way  down  the  walk. 
Nothing  but  her  set  features  and  the  strain  of  her 
fingers  upon  my  arm  betrayed  the  excitement  which 
must  have  been  raging  within  her.  To  look  at  us 
both  I  am  sure  that  I  must  have  appeared  the  more 
disturbed  of  the  two,  for  I  was  trembling  a  little 
with  the  emotion  of  what  was  just  passed,  and 
threw  stolen  and  apprehensive  glances  into  the 
beautiful  face  beside  me.  The  upper  lip  was 
slightly  lifted,  disclosing  the  small  teeth  beneath, 
which  in  this  moment  looked  almost  menacingly 
white. 

We  had  not  yet  reached  the  end  of  the  walk 
when  she  said  with  a  deep  breath  : — 

"I  am  glad  that  it  came  that  way." 

In  my  heart  of  hearts  I  was  sorry  for'Wladimir, 
but  in  that  moment  I  simply  had  not  the  courage 
to  say  it. 


CHAPTER  XV 

IT  has  been  said  that  in  the  afflictions  of  our 
best  friends  we  find  something  not  displeasing  to 
ourselves ;  but  surely,  if  this  be  so,  there  must  be 
something  wrong,  either  with  ourselves  or  our 
friends.  At  any  rate,  in  the  days  I  am  writing  I 
experienced  the  exact  reverse.  So  completely  had 
I  got  used  to  looking  for  my  sunshine  from  one 
quarter,  that  now  it  failed  me  my  life  seemed  to 
grow  suddenly  dark.  In  Jadwiga's  happiness  I 
had  sought  to  find  a  reflection  of  that  which  I  had 
never  possessed,  and,  for  want  of  all  other  causes 
of  joy,  I  had  succeeded  so  well  in  identifying  my- 
self with  her,  that  the  blow  fell  on  me  only  with 
less  force  than  on  her.  It  almost  seemed  to  me 
that  I  had  lost  Henry  over  again.  All  those 
gentle  memories  that  had  been  lulled  to  sleep  with 
my  songs  of  rejoicing  over  Jadwiga's  bliss,  stirred 
in  their  graves  and  threatened  to  climb  out  again, 
now  that  my  voice  was  suddenly  silenced.  Every 
hour  I  had  spent  with  Henry  in  long-past  childish 
days,  each  ramble  we  had  taken,  each  rabbit  we 
had  reared,  each  scrape  we  had  got  into  in  com- 
mon, began  to  come  back  to  my  mind  with  annoy- 
ing persistency.  To  reflect  on  the  falseness  of 
22O 


ONE      YEAR  221 

Jadwiga's  lover  was  to  bring  the  worth  of  a  true 
lover  home  to  me  as  it  had  never  before  been 
brought  home,  and  uneasily  I  asked  myself,  in- 
fected perhaps  by  her  idealism,  whether  I  had  after 
all  been  right  in  separating  myself  thus  decisively 
from  the  man  of  whom  I  could  not  help  thinking 
that  he  loved  me  still.  It  was  startling  to  find  the 
wound  so  fresh,  after  nine  months  of  separation. 
Would  it  ever  heal  ?  And  did  his  heart  ever  ache 
as  mine  was  now  aching  ? 

And  all  this  because  Jadwiga  had  lost  Wladimir ! 

By  Jadwiga's  wish  it  was  I  who  announced  the 
truth  to  Madame  Bielinska. 

41 1  do  not  want  to  speak  of  him  even  to  my 
mother,"  she  said  to  me  on  the  evening  of  the 
meeting  in  the  park.  "  Go  in  and  tell  her  that  I 
have  dismissed  him  and  that  I  never  want  to  hear 
his  name  again." 

I  found  Madame  Bielinska  in  her  room,  busily 
occupied  with  the  papers  among  which  she  now 
spent  her  days.  She  looked  up  as  I  entered. 

"  I  have  been  making  a  calculation,"  she  said, 
without  giving  me  time  to  speak,  "  and  I  think  I 
have  got  it  almost  right.  You  know  it  is  not  only 
the  capital  we  owe,  by  this  time,  there  is  the  in- 
terest as  well,  and  since  the  sum  is  owing  now  for 
more  than  thirty  years,  the  interest  calculated  at 
five  per  cent,  comes  to  more  than  the  original 
capital,  which  means  that  instead  of  sixty  thousand 


222  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

we  owe  a  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  florins."  And 
she  looked  at  me  with  the  air  of  a  person  who  has 
made  an  entirely  satisfactory  discovery.  "  Would 
you  mind  looking  it  over  just  to  see  if  I  am  right  ?  " 

"  Presently,"  I  said,  "but  just  now  I  have  some- 
thing else  to  tell  you."  And  I  gave  her  the  sum 
of  Jadwiga's  message.  She  listened  at  first  without 
much  interest,  but  gradually  more  closely. 

"  You  mean  that  the  engagement  is  broken  off?  " 
she  asked  at  last. 

"  Yes,"  I  said. 

A  cloud  came  over  her  face :  she  leant  back  in 
her  chair  with  an  air  of  discouragement. 

"  That  is  bad,"  she  murmured  j  "  that  is  very 
bad,  I  had  hoped  so  much  from  Bazyli  Lewicki." 

"From  Wladimir,"  I  corrected;  "I  too  had 
hoped  better  things  from  him." 

"  No,  I  do  not  mean  Wladimir,"  she  said  sharply. 
"  I  am  speaking  of  Bazyli ;  it  is  he  alone  who 
could  give  me  a  clue ;  and  now,  if  there  has  been 
a  break,  how  do  I  know  that  he  will  be  willing  to 
help  me  ? " 

"  But  Jadwiga !  "  I  said,  aghast  at  this  attitude 
which  I  took  for  callousness,  but  which  was  only 
the  unavoidable  result  of  complete  absorption  in 
one  idea.  "  Have  you  no  word  for  her  and  for 
what  she  is  suffering?" 

She  looked  at  me  with  her  great  cavernous  eyes 
which  were  almost  as  much  socket  as  eyeball ;  she 


O  N  E      Y  E  A  R  223 

seemed  to  be  laboriously  forcing  herself  to  my 
view  of  the  case. 

"  Yes  Jadwiga,"  she  said  abstractedly,  "  I  am 
sorry  for  her,  poor  child.  No,"  she  went  on  sud- 
denly in  another  and  more  decisive  tone,  "  I  am 
not  sorry  for  her ;  she  has  escaped  much  if  she  has 
escaped  from  the  hands  of  a  man  who  is  capable 
of  baseness.  What  think  you  :  would  she  bear  be- 
ing tied  to  a  master  whom  she  cannot  honour  ? " 

By  the  ring  in  the  tone  of  her  strained  voice, 
and  by  the  twitch  at  the  corners  of  her  bloodless 
lips  I  knew  that  she  was  thinking  of  the  man  whose 
portrait  hung  in  that  uninhabited  room. 

It  was  only  for  a  minute  that  Madame  Bielinska 
had  been  torn  out  of  her  dominant  train  of  thought. 

"  After  all,"  she  began  again,  "  even  if  the  young 
people  have  separated  that  is  no  reason  for  the  old 
people  not  to  put  their  heads  together.  I  shall 
send  for  Bazyli  the  moment  he  is  back;  he  cannot 
well  refuse  to  answer  a  simple  question.  Yes,  I 
think  I  need  have  no  fear,"  and  her  countenance 
cleared.  "And  now,  Miss  Middleton,  would  you 
just  run  your  eye  over  this  paper;  I  was  never  very 
strong  in  figures." 

This  was  only  the  first  of  many  calculations  I 
was  asked  to  make  during  these  days,  while  we 
were  sitting  still,  so  to  say,  waiting  for  the  answer 
from  the  Parisian  attorney,  which  was  to  bring  us 
the  certainty  of  the  Vicomte's  identity  with  the 


224  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

murdered  monk.  In  default  of  any  more  active 
step,  which  it  would  have  been  possible  to  take  at 
present,  Madame  Bielinska  lived  almost  entirely 
in  figures.  Now  and  then  she  would  appear  at 
meal-times,  and  sometimes  even  get  as  far  as  the 
garden,  and  to  see  her  in  the  full  sunlight  seemed 
like  the  resurrection  of  a  dead  body.  To  me  she 
had  become  almost  talkative,  but  always  only  on 
one  subject. 

"  Do  you  think  it  quite  impossible  that  the  resti- 
tution should,  after  all,  have  been  already  made  ?  " 
I  asked  her  once.  "  Might  he  not  have  carried 
out  his  plan  of  letting  his  adversary  win  back  the 
sum  ?  and  might  not  the  loss  have  been  subse- 
quently covered  by  other  rightful  gains  ?  " 

She  shook  her  head  decisively. 

"  It  is  well  known  that  Hazimir  never  touched 
cards  again  after  that  journey  to  Paris, — it  was  his 
last.  There  were  many  jokes  made  at  the  time 
on  the  subject  of  his  conversion ;  that  is  proof 
enough  that  he  did  not  carry  out  his  plan." 

I  was  silenced,  of  course ;  indeed  the  moral  evi- 
dence was  too  strong  to  be  withstood.  It  was  a 
dawning  circumstance,  certainly,  that  the  person 
who  had  known  him  best  should  be  the  one  to 
believe  most  readily  in  his  guilt. 

In  all  these  discussions  Jadwiga  took  no  part. 
She  was  scarcely  the  same  Jadwiga  she  had  been 
before  the  reception  of  that  letter  which  she  had 


O  N  E      Y  E  A  R  225 

brought  into  the  schoolroom.  That  flash  of  out- 
raged pride  seemed  to  have  been  as  the  death-cry 
of  something  stricken.  After  that  supreme  effort 
her  forces  broke.  Never  could  I  have  believed 
that  that  haughty  head  could  droop  as  I  saw  it 
droop.  Seeing  her  so  still  and  so  white  the  mother 
made  the  mistake  of  believing  that  she  was  pining 
after  her  lover,  but  the  first  attempted  word  of 
sympathy  brought  her  an  answer  which  could  not 
be  understood. 

"  /  sigh  after  him  ?  "  she  replied,  turning  indig- 
nantly upon  her  mother,  and  the  fire  coming  back 
to  her  eyes  for  one  moment.  "  Am  I  your  own 
child,  and  do  you  know  me  as  little  as  this  ? 
What  is  he  to  me  ?  Nothing — nothing  at  all.  I 
swear  to  you  that  not  even  in  the  night  when  no 
one  sees  me  have  I  shed  one  tear  for  him  !  no, 
not  so  much  as  a  sigh  have  I  spent — he  is  not 
worth  as  much  as  that.  Oh,  it  is  not  that — it  is 
not  that  at  all !  " 

And  really  it  was  not  that. 

It  was  no  love-sick  yearnings  under  which  she 
was  sinking,  not  her  lover's  abandonment  which 
was  crushing  her,  but  only  the  weight  of  the  shame 
which  that  abandonment  seemed  to  have  finally 
brought  home  to  her.  To  see  him  shrink  was 
unavoidably  to  magnify  in  her  eyes  the  thing  be- 
fore which  he  shrank.  By  nature,  by  the  whole 
constitution  of  her  mind,  Jadwiga  was  far  less 


226  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

armed  against  a  shock  of  this  particular  kind  than 
was  her  mother.  To  her  almost  fantastically  ideal 
conception  of  right  and  wrong,  to  her  romantic 
admiration  of  nobleness  and  purity  in  any  shape, 
the  revelation  of  her  father's  baseness  could  not  be 
otherwise  than  overwhelming,  and  she  had  not  her 
mother's  strange  enthusiasm  to  support  her.  Love 
alone  could  have  helped  her  in  this  crisis,  and  love 
had  failed  her. 

"The  thing  is  really  not  so  bad  for  you  as  for 
me,"  Madame  Bielinska  once  remarked  dispassion- 
ately. "You  could  not  choose  your  father  for 
yourself,  while  I  did  choose  my  husband." 

But  Jadwiga  made  no  response.  She  had 
never  been  really  intimate  with  her  mother,  and 
even  to  me  she  avoided  putting  into  words  the 
true  cause  of  her  sufferings.  In  her  grief  she 
proved  far  more  reticent  than  she  had  been  in 
her  joy. 

Meanwhile  it  was  clear  to  me  that  reports  were 
beginning  to  spread.  The  servants  looked  at  me 
doubtfully,  as  though  longing  to  put  questions  and 
not  quite  daring,  and  Marya  once  ventured  to  ask : 
"  It  is  not  true,  is  it,  that  the  place  is  to  be  sold  ? " 
and  immediately  afterward,  "  Why  does  the  young 
gentleman  never  visit  the  young  lady  now  ? " 
which  showed  one  clearly  that  the  two  circum- 
stances were  instinctively  connected,  even  by  the 
outside  mind. 


O  N  E      Y  E  A  R  227 

"  Anulka  has  been  chattering,"  I  said  indignantly 
to  Madame  Bielinska.  "  Is  there  no  way  of  keep- 
ing that  child's  tongue  tied  ? " 

She  only  looked  at  me  wonderingly.  "What 
for  ?  "  she  asked.  "  If  I  thought  that  Marya  could 
give  me  any  clue  I  would  speak  to  her  about  it 
myself." 

I  have  sometimes  wondered  whether  Madame 
Bielinska  was  quite  in  her  right  mind  at  that  time. 
But  for  this  explanation  there  would  have  been 
something  almost  indecent  in  her  frankness.  It 
was  at  the  time  of  Madame  Malewicz's  visit  that 
this  propensity  showed  itself  most  crudely. 

I  half  suspect  the  old  lady  was  sent  by  her  son. 
What  reports  had  reached  his  ears  I  do  not  know, 
but  he  cannot  have  been  aware  of  Wladimir's  de- 
parture, for  immediately  after  his  last  appearance 
at  Ludniki,  Wladimir  had  rejoined  his  father  at 
Karlsbad.  There  was  food  enough  for  surmise  in 
this  circumstance  alone. 

When  the  carriage  drove  up  to  the  door  we 
were  sitting  with  Madame  Bielinska  in  her  own 
room.  At  the  mere  sound  of  the  wheels  Jadwiga 
had  started  to  her  feet. 

"  Visitors  !  "  she  said  in  an  accent  almost  of 
terror.  "  Surely  you  are  not  going  to  receive 
them,  Mamma  ? " 

"  It  depends  on  who  it  is,"  replied  Madame 
Bielinska  composedly. 


228  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

Meanwhile  I  had  recognised  the  occupant  of  the 
carriage. 

"  Malwina  Malewicz  ? "  said  my  employer 
brightening.  "  Oh,  bring  her  in,  by  all  means  ; 
she  has  always  taken  an  interest  in  everything  con- 
cerning us." 

Jadwiga  had  already  disappeared  from  the  room, 
so  it  fell  to  me  to  receive  the  visitor. 

When  I  reached  the  entrance  Madame  Malewicz 
was  still  laboriously  descending  from  the  carriage. 
There  was  only  one  servant  to  help  her  out,  you 
see,  and,  to  judge  from  the  helplessness  with  which 
she  groped  about  for  her  belongings,  and  attempted 
to  guard  her  skirt  from  the  wheel,  and  anxiously 
looked  out  for  the  proper  spot  on  which  to  place 
her  exquisite  little  foot,  she  would  have  required  at 
least  half-a-dozen. 

"  I  am  so  stupid,"  she  said  radiantly,  catching 
sight  of  me.  "  I  go  out  driving  so  little  now  that 
I  quite  forget  the  way.  There — I  think  I  have 
got  everything  now — except  my  fan ;  where  can 
that  be,  I  wonder  ?  If  Krysztof  were  here  he 
would  find  it  immediately — he  always  finds  my 
things.  Oh,  dear  ;  oh,  dear  !  What  a  bother  it 
is  to  grow  old,  to  be  sure." 

At  last  I  got  her  safely  landed  in  the  dressing- 
room,  where  she  required  a  glass  of  raspberry  juice 
and  water  to  refresh  her  after  her  recent  efforts,  as 
well  as  a  few  minutes  to  put  her  hair  into  order. 


O  N  E      Y  E  A  R  229 

Although  she  was  only  going  to  see  another  old 
woman  like  herself,  she  yet  arranged  her  delicate 
silver  curls,  as  coquettishly  before  the  glass  as 
though  she  had  been  eighteen.  All  this  time  she 
scarcely  stopped  talking — about  the  roads  and  the 
weather  chiefly — but  I  could  see  by  her  face  that 
something  else  was  coming.  It  came  as  she  sipped 
her  raspberry  juice,  preparatory  to  penetrating  into 
Madame  Bielinska's  apartment. 

"  Tell  me,"  she  said,  growing  suddenly  grave, 
"  is  it  true  what  people  say  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  what  they  say,"  I  answered. 

"  All  sorts  of  things — but  I  mean  now  about  the 
marriage.  Is  it  actually  off?  " 

"That  certainly  is  true." 

"  Quite  off?  "  she  urged,  with  deepening  inter- 
est. "  Not  merely  a  lovers'  quarrel  ?  " 

"  So  entirely  off,"  I  assured  her,  "  that  I  know 
of  no  power  on  earth  that  could  ever  bring  it  on 
again." 

"  Dear,  dear !  "  she  said,  rocking  her  head  gently 
from  side  to  side,  "  this  is  sudden,  certainly,  and 
very  sad."  But  she  did  not  look  sad  exactly  as 
she  said  it,  and  by  a  little  spark  in  the  corners  of 
her  lively  black  eyes  I  knew  that  she  was  thinking 
of  Krysztof,  of  whose  attachment  she  must  have 
been  aware.  "  And  the  reason,"  she  added  tenta- 
tively. "  I  suppose  it  would  be  indiscreet  to  in- 
quire the  reason  ? " 


230  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

"  It  certainly  would  be  indiscreet  of  me  to  give 
it  you,"  I  replied,  "  but  I  don't  think  you  will  be 
kept  in  ignorance  for  long."  And  at  that  moment 
Marya  came  to  say  that  Madame  Bielinska  was 
ready  to  receive  the  gracious  lady. 

I  did  not  see  Madame  Malewicz  again  that  day, 
and  so  was  not  able  to  judge  of  the  effect  of  the 
disclosures  which,  according  to  my  surmises,  my 
employer  had  made  to  her. 

"  You  see,  she  is  an  old  friend  of  the  family," 
Madame  Bielinska  explained  to  me  half  apologetic- 
ally, u  and  her  husband  knew  many  of  the  French 
set  in  which  Hazimir  lost  his  money.  It  seemed 
to  me  not  impossible  that  she  should  remember 
something  which  could  give  us  a  clue.  We  can- 
not afford  to  leave  a  stone  unturned." 

"  And  did  she  remember  anything  ?  "  I  asked. 

"Nothing,"  said  Madame  Bielinska  sadly. 
"  Malwina  has  an  excellent  heart,  but  her  head  is 
the  head  of  a  child." 

It  happened  that  next  day  I  was  again  in  the  vil- 
lage and  again  alone.  More  than  once  lately  I  had 
been  back  at  Andrej's  hut,  for  his  wife  was  still  on 
the  sick  list,  and  very  grateful  for  whatever  small 
advice  I  could  give  her.  I  knew  the  dark  little 
basket-work  lane  by  heart  already,  and  each  crip- 
pled willow  by  sight,  and,  before  plunging  into  its 
shadows,  never  failed  to  enjoy  the  glimpse  over  the 
plain,  with  the  shimmer  of  the  fish  pond  in  the 


ONE      YEAR  231 

foreground,  the  blue  summer  haze  in  the  distance, 
and  the  yellow  sea  of  corn  between  the  two. 
Since  my  meeting  with  Wladimir  I  had  never  en- 
countered anything  here  beyond  a  stray  pig  wallow- 
ing in  the  mud,  but  to-day  almost  at  the  same  spot 
a  man  was  standing  in  my  path.  My  first  impres- 
sion was  that  this  was  Wladimir  again,  waylaying 
me  in  the  hope  attempting  some  last  desperate  ap- 
peal, and,  accordingly,  without  glancing  toward 
him,  I  prepared  to  pass  quickly  by,  but,  to  my  as- 
tonishment, he  did  not  move,  and  looking  up  per- 
force, for  the  way  was  narrow,  I  saw  that  it  was 
Malewicz.  At  the  moment  that  I  recognised  him 
I  also  understood  why  he  was  here.  It  seemed  to 
me  even  that  I  had  expected  something  of  the  sort. 
He  himself  met  the  thought  half-way. 

"You  know  what  I  want  ?  "  he  asked  in  a  more 
peremptory  than  inquiring  tone.  "  My  mother  was 
at  Ludniki  yesterday." 

"If  you  know  all  that  your  mother  knows — "  I 
began,  but  he  broke  in  : 

"  Yes,  yes ;  but  my  mother  is  not  quite  the  re- 
porter I  should  wish.  She  has  too  much  imagina- 
tion, and  perhaps,  also,  too  much  heart.  I  should 
like  to  hear  your  account." 

"  About  the  letters  that  came  from  Paris  ?  " 

"  No,  no,"  he  said  impatiently, "  not  about  them, 
but  about  Wladimir.  Is  it  true  that  he  has  aban- 
doned her?" 


232  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

I  told  him  that  it  was  true. 

He  stood  intent  for  a  moment  or  two,  evidently 
struggling  with  his  emotion. 

"  The  hound  !  "  he  said  at  last,  bringing  out 
even  these  words  with  a  painful  effort.  Then  only 
his  tongue  seemed  to  be  loosened.  "  Oh,"  he  cried 
in  a  voice  which  shook  its  depth,  "  you  know  what 
it  meant  to  me  to  lose  her,  you  know  what  my 
hopes  were,  but  I  swear  to  you  that  if  I  could  put 
a  soul  into  that  boy  in  order  to  give  him  back  to 
her  as  she  requires  him,  I  would  do  so,  so  much 
does  it  hurt  me  to  think  of  her  grief.  How  does 
she  bear  it  ?  "  The  last  question  was  put  with  the 
abruptness  of  a  keen  anxiety. 

"  Her  lover's  loss  ?  "  I  asked. 

"Yes,  her  lover's  loss." 

"  Then  I  can  only  answer  that  there  is  nothing 
to  bear.  She  has  no  lover;  from  the  moment  that 
she  knew  him  as  he  is  he  became  blotted  out  of 
her  life  as  though  he  had  never  been,  and,  even 
though  you  could  perform  the  miracle  of  making  of 
him  a  hero,  I  can  swear  to  you  that  she  would  not 
take  him  back." 

"  Oh,  you  say  so  ? "  said  Malewicz  with  eyes 
alight.  "  She  is  so  strong  as  that  ?  God  be 
thanked  for  it !  Her  love  is  dead,  you  say  ? " 

"  As  dead  as  though  it  had  never  lived." 

He  took  a  turn  across  the  lane,  and  came  back 
to  my  side. 


O  N  E      Y  E  A  R  233 

"  But  her  heart  is  not  dead,  is  it  ?  "  he  asked  more 
gently.  "Could  it  not  live  again — for  another?" 

We  looked  each  other  full  in  the  eyes  for  a  few 
seconds,  and  then  I  spoke. 

"  I  understand  you,  Pan  Malewicz — it  is  best  to 
be  plain.  You  are  asking  me  whether,  now  that 
the  road  is  clear,  there  is  any  hope  for  yourself?  " 

u  That  is  it  exactly.     What  do  you  say  ?  " 

"  Only  that  time  alone  can  answer  that  question ; 
at  the  present  moment  it  is  not  to  be  thought  of. 
Any  attempt  on  your  part  would  certainly  fail  now. 
But  she  is  young — if  you  give  her  time " 

"  But  I  cannot  give  her  time,"  he  said  with  a 
vehemence  that  startled  me.  I  thought  I  had 
gauged  the  depth  of  his  passion  for  Jadwiga,  but 
this  tone  was  to  me  a  revelation.  "  It  must  be 
done  at  once  if  it  is  to  be  done  at  all.  Will  you  be 
my  ally  ?  That  is  what  I  chiefly  wanted  to  ask 
you.  You  think  me  too  precipitate,  I  know,  but 
there  is  no  help  for  it.  Believe  me,  this  is  the 
right  time  ;  after  all,  a  heart  is  often  caught  at  the 
rebound,  is  it  not  ?  "  and  he  smiled  a  little  nerv- 
ously. "  Will  you  help  me  or  not  ?  I  am  not  ask- 
ing you  for  your  own  sake,  but  for  the  sake  of  her 
whom  we  both  love.  I  will  do  it  without  your  as- 
sistance if  needs  be,  but  it  would  be  easier  if  you 
were  on  my  side." 

I  answered,  deeply  moved,  "  I  have  always  been 
on  your  side ;  but  how  I  am  to  help  you  now  I  do 


234  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

not  see.  Jadwiga  has  grown  so  shy  of  the  outer 
world  that  she  hides  from  all  but  the  most  familiar 
faces.  Do  you  know  that  since  the  arrival  of  those 
letters  she  has  not  been  outside  the  gates  ?  If  you 
come  to  Ludniki  you  may  possibly  see  the  mother, 
but  certainly  not  the  daughter." 

"Then  I  shall  begin  with  the  mother.  You 
think  she  will  admit  me  ? " 

"  It  is  not  impossible.  Just  as  Jadwiga  shrinks 
from  the  light  she  seems  to  seek  it.  If  by  any 
chance  you  could  bring  her  some  news  of  Pan 
Lewicki's  return,  then  your  admission  would  be 
certain,  for  she  grasps  at  even  the  palest  shadow  of 
a  clue." 

"  Oh  ?  "  he  said  with  increased  attention. 

I  went  on  to  give  him  in  general  words  an  idea 
of  Madame  Bielinska's  state  of  mind.  It  seemed  to 
me  that  he  required  some  preparation.  He  listened 
intently,  with  eyebrows  drawn  deep  over  his  eyes. 

"  Good,"  he  said  when  I  ceased.  "  I  think  I 
understand.  You  have  helped  me  already.  Oh,  I 
shall  find  a  way,  never  fear." 

Upon  this  we  parted — as  allies,  for  it  had  not 
been  possible  to  resist  his  urgency.  I  had  not  so 
much  as  asked  him  whether  he  had  well  considered 
the  situation,  or  reminded  him  that  Jadwiga  would 
now  be  almost  as  poor  as  himself.  Merely  to  sug- 
gest this  idea  would  have  seemed  to  me  an  insult 
to  a  love  such  as  his. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE  day  that  followed  was  oppressively  hot,  so 
hot  that  I  let  Anulka  off  at  least  a  quarter  of  her 
lessons,  and  took  refuge  on  the  pillared  verandah 
before  the  house,  which,  lying  toward  the  East,  was 
in  deep  shadow  at  this  hour.  Jadwiga  was  there, 
too.  She  had  caused  a  hammock  to  be  slung  be- 
tween two  pillars,  and  was  lying  in  it  now  so  still 
that  I  took  her  to  be  asleep.  My  hands,  too,  lay 
idle  in  my  lap.  The  oppressive  atmosphere  made 
even  the  lightest  occupation  an  effort.  There  was 
a  subdued  hum  of  insects  in  the  air,  the  leaves  of 
the  creepers  that  grew  around  the  white  pillars  be- 
ing motionless. 

Presently  a  very  slight  crunching  of  the  gravel 
made  me  discover  that  I  had  almost  fallen  asleep. 
I  drowsily  turned  my  head  and  instantly  became 
wide-awake,  for  Malewicz,  walking  cautiously, 
was  only  at  a  dozen  paces  from  the  verandah. 
He  must  have  left  his  horses  in  the  village  in  order 
to  approach  the  house  unperceived.  In  my  as- 
tonishment at  his  audacity  I  began  by  simply  star- 
ing ;  then  quickly  I  turned  toward  the  unconscious 
Jadwiga,  who,  with  the  edge  of  the  hammock 
drawn  half  over  her  face,  had  evidently  perceived 
235 


236  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

nothing.  A  peremptory  gesture  of  the  visitor 
checked  the  warning  I  had  almost  uttered,  and  in 
the  same  flash  of  thought  I  was  already  wondering 
at  myself  for  having  wanted  to  utter  it.  Was  I 
not  his  ally  ? 

It  was  not  until  his  foot  was  on  the  stone  step 
that  something  stirred  in  the  hammock,  and 
Jadwiga's  eyes  looked  out  inquiringly.  A  deep 
red  flush  dyed  her  face  on  the  instant.  For  a 
moment  she  seemed  to  be  meditating  an  escape 
even  then,  for  her  eyes  strayed  desperately  toward 
the  door,  but,  quickly  recognising  the  impossibility, 
she  contented  herself  with  sitting  up  in  the  ham- 
mock, pushing  back  her  hair  from  her  forehead, 
and  looking  with  cold  inquiry  toward  the  visitor. 
I  think  she  had  nearly  spoken,  but  he  was  too  wise 
to  give  her  time.  With  a  profound  bow  in  her 
direction  he  had  turned  straight  to  me. 

"Will  you  kindly  ask  Madame  Bielinska 
whether  she  will  receive  me  ?  "  he  said  quickly. 
"  I  have  a  message  for  her  from  my  mother — an 
important  message,"  he  added  with  emphasis. 

I  rose  in  some  slight  flurry,  wondering  how 
Jadwiga  would  bear  being  left  alone  with  him,  but 
she  was  spared  this  ordeal,  for,  without  another 
glance  toward  her  he  followed  me  into  the  house. 

"This  is  almost  too  bold,"  I  said,  as  we  crossed 
through  the  lobby. 

"Success    belongs    to    the    bold,"    he    replied. 


O  N  E      Y  E  A  R  237 

"  But  am  I  not  also  discreet  ?  "  And  I  was  forced 
to  acknowledge  that  it  was  so. 

When  I  came  back  to  the  verandah  alone  the 
hammock  was  empty,  and  I  spent  a  solitary  half- 
hour  trying  to  imagine  what  the  message  could  be 
that  Madame  Malewicz  was  sending  by  her  son. 
At  the  end  of  that  time  Marya  came  to  say  that 
the  gracious  lady  wished  to  see  me  in  her  room. 

My  first  glance  showed  me  that  the  message 
had  been  a  welcome  one.  Madame  Bielinska  was 
sitting  upright  in  her  chair  and  greeted  me  eagerly. 

"  Heaven  is  with  us  !  "  she  began,  in  a  lively 
tone.  "  Krysztof  has  offered  his  help.  He  has 
old  letters  of  his  father's — many  dated  from  Paris. 
He  hopes  to  find  in  them  the  names  of  the  Paris 
companions  among  whom  we  must  seek  our 
creditor.  Is  this  not  so,  Krysztof?  " 

"  It  is  so,"  said  Malewicz,  who  was  seated  at 
only  two  paces  from  his  hostess.  "  My  mother 
has  remembered  these  letters.  The  names  men- 
tioned in  them  belong  mostly  to  families  that  are 
still  extant  in  France.  Since  we  have  dates  to  go 
by  I  do  not  think  it  impossible  that  we  should  in 
this  way  find  the  man  we  require." 

It  was  rather  soon  to  say  "  we,"  but  he  said  it, 
and  looked  at  me  straight  as  he  spoke,  and  I 
looked  back  at  him  scrutinisingly.  Not  that  I  dis- 
trusted what  he  said,  but  merely  that  I  was  struck 
with  wonder — almost  with  alarm — at  his  ingenuity. 


238  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

u  Have  you  those  letters  here  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  No,  they  have  to  be  hunted  for  first,  as  is 
usual  with  my  mother's  possessions,  but  they  are 
certainly  safe.  To-morrow  I  hope  to  bring  them." 

"What  a  diplomat!  "  I  inwardly  ejaculated. 

It  was  not  until  some  time  after  he  had  gone 
that  Jadwiga  came  in.  By  the  cloud  on  her  face 
as  she  listened  to  her  mother's  account  of  the  visit 
I  could  see  that  something  displeased  her  intensely. 
Yet  all  she  said  was,  in  a  tone  of  unusual  re- 
serve : — 

"  And  you  have  accepted  his  services  ?  " 

"  Naturally  I  have,"  was  Madame  Bielinska's 
reply.  "  In  this  cause  I  refuse  no  services." 

"I  wish  it  had  been  any  one  else,"  said  Jad- 
wiga, with  painfully  puckered  eyebrows,  and  by 
the  strong  reluctance  in  her  face  I  knew  of  what 
she  was  thinking.  That  just  this  man  toward 
whom  she  could  not  feel  quite  guiltless,  on  whom 
she  had  reeked  her  disdain  and  her  mockery,  that 
just  he  of  all  others  should  be  the  one  to  offer  his 
help  must  have  been  to  Jadwiga's  spirit  a  very 
keen  sort  of  torture.  To  know  him  in  full  pos- 
session of  the  disgraceful  secret  of  the  past,  a  wit- 
ness to  her  present  humiliation,  was  bad  enough, 
but  to  have  to  owe  him  gratitude  for  a  service  was 
worse  infinitely.  Jadwiga  did  not  tell  me  these 
things  then,  but  I  had  got  to  read  her  face  and  her 
bearing  like  an  open  book. 


O  N  E      Y  E  A  R  239 

When  Malewicz  came  back  next  day  with  the 
letters  she  kept  carefully  out  of  his  way,  but  the 
nature  of  the  search  now  entered  on  made  frequent 
visits  necessary,  or,  at  least,  seemed  to  explain 
them,  and  she  could  not  keep  out  of  his  way  for 
ever. 

"  We  have  found  three  French  names  already," 
Madame  Bielinska  informed  me  delightedly.  "  I 
wanted  to  write  at  once  to  Monsieur  Grimond  to 
get  him  to  make  inquiries  about  the  families,  but 
Krysztof  has  offered  to  manage  the  correspond- 
ence himself.  He  says  it  will  take  less  time,  and 
he  promises  to  bring  me  every  scrap  of  news  he 
gets." 

Needless  to  say  that  he  did  more  than  keep  his 
promise,  for  he  came  very  often  when  he  had  no 
news  to  give,  but  merely  an  idea  to  suggest  or  an 
inquiry  to  make.  Within  a  week,  and  without 
visible  effort,  he  had  glided  into  the  position  of 
something  between  a  secretary  and  a  family  adviser, 
and  looked  as  much  at  home  in  Madame  Bielinska's 
sanctuary  as  did  Madame  Bielinska  herself.  She 
had  got  so  used  to  his  presence  that  the  days  which 
did  not  bring  him  left  her  restless  and  dissatisfied. 
In  him  she  had  found  exactly  what  she  wanted ;  a 
listener  as  well  as  an  adviser. 

"  Where  did  you  pick  up  your  secret  of 
manoeuvring  ? "  I  asked  him  once,  laughingly, 
but  he  answered,  without  laughing  : — "  Don't  you 


240  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

know  that  I  am  half  an  Armenian,  and  that  cun- 
ning is  an  Armenian  quality  ?  " 

The  bitterness  of  the  tone  reminded  me  that  he 
had  indeed  some  Armenian  blood  in  his  veins,  and 
that  in  the  days  of  his  hopeless  courtship  Jadwiga 
had  often  contemptuously  referred  to  him  as  "The 
Armenian." 

During  that  first  week  Jadwiga  and  Krysztof 
had  not  met  again,  and  I  was  beginning  to  wonder 
whether  he  would  not  soon  grow  tired  of  these 
fruitless  tactics,  when  one  afternoon  his  opportunity 
came. 

We  were  again  on  the  verandah,  Jadwiga  list- 
lessly reading,  I  writing  to  Agnes.  I  knew  that 
about  an  hour  ago  Malewicz  had  come  and  been 
taken  straight  to  Madame  Bielinska's  room ;  but 
by  Jadwiga's  unconsciousness,  by  the  mere  fact  of 
her  being  here,  I  saw  that  she  was  not  aware  of  his 
presence  in  the  house,  and  I  resolved  to  leave  her 
in  ignorance.  In  order  to  leave  the  house  he  would 
have  to  pass  here — well,  so  much  the  better ;  it  was 
time  to  clear  the  situation  one  way  or  the  other, 
and  it  was  more  than  time  to  rouse  Jadwiga  from 
the  apathy  that  had  so  transformed  her. 

At  last  I  heard  his  step,  and  Jadwiga  heard  it 
too,  and  raised  her  head  to  listen,  but  he  was  already 
in  the  doorway.  With  a  glance  he  had  taken  in 
the  situation. 

"  Pani  Jadwiga,"  he  said  quickly,  to  the  young 


O  N  E      Y  E  A  R  241 

girl  who  had  already  risen  from  her  seat  with  the 
obvious  intention  of  retiring,  "  it  is  fortunate  that  I 
find  you ;  I  have  a  word  to  say  to  you  from  my 
mother." 

It  was  wonderful  how  useful  he  contrived  to 
make  his  mother. 

Jadwiga  hesitated  for  a  moment  and  then  sat 
down  again. 

"  What  can  your  mother  have  to  say  to  me  ?  " 
she  asked,  in  a  tone  of  constraint. 

"  She  would  beg  you  to  take  pity  on  her  loneli- 
ness ;  the  harvest  is  approaching,  I  shall  be  tied  to 
the  fields,  and  she  will  spend  her  days  alone — would 
it  be  asking  too  much  that  you  should  keep  her 
company — only  for  a  few  days  ?  always  supposing 
that  you  can  be  spared  here." 

All  the  blood  rushed  to  Jadwiga's  face  as  she 
replied  hastily  :— 

"  Oh,  no,  I  cannot — it  is  impossible ;  I  cannot 
go  away  from  here,  and  besides — "  she  broke  off 
abruptly. 

"  Besides  what  ?  "  asked  Malewicz,  gently. 

"  Your  mother  would  gain  nothing  by  such  a 
companion  as  I  am  now.  She  had  better  look  for 
somebody  in  a  gayer  mood,  and  who^who  would 
do  her  house  more  honour." 

The  last  words  were  spoken  with  averted  face, 
vehemently  and  bitterly,  pressed  out,  as  it  were, 
against  her  own  will. 


242  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

"  Neither  my  mother  nor  I  know  of  anybody 
who  could  do  that,"  said  Malewicz,  very  de- 
liberately. "  Will  you  not  reconsider  your  reso- 
lution?" 

She  did  not  turn  her  face  at  once,  but  the  hands 
that  lay  in  her  lap  were  twisted  tightly  together. 

"  I  cannot  come,"  she  said,  in  a  choked  voice. 

u  Then  this  is  all  I  am  to  say  to  my  mother  ? " 

There  was  a  moment's  pause  before  she  showed 
him  her  deeply  moved  face. 

"  No,  that  is  not  all ;  you  are  to  tell  her  also  that 
she  is  very  good  and  that  I  thank  her  deeply.  Will 
you  tell  her  that  ?  "  and  with  an  effort  she  held  out 
her  hand,  but  avoided  looking  at  him.  He  took  it 
in  silence  and  raised  it  to  his  lips,  then  turned  im- 
mediately and  left  us  alone. 

Jadwiga  looked  after  him  with  her  eyes  full  of 
perplexity. 

"  But — I  don't  understand,"  she  said,  confusedly. 
"  I  thought  he  knew  everything." 

"  So  he  does." 

"  And  his  mother,  too  ?  And  yet  she  asks  me 
to  visit  her  ?  But  it  is  he  who  made  her  do  that," 
she  added  at  once.  I  could  see  that  she  was  in- 
tensely touched.  Whether  or  not  Malewicz  had 
expected  his  proposition  to  be  accepted  it  had  cer- 
tainly not  failed  in  its  object. 

"  I  don't  understand  him  at  all,"  she  said, 
musingly. 


O  N  E      Y  E  A  R  243 

"  Don't  you  ?  "  said  I,  watching  her  carefully. 

"  There  is  nothing  here,  at  any  rate,  that  should 
be  astonishing  to  you.  Was  it  not  you  who  asked, 
What  can  poverty,  or  grief,  or  shame  do  to  a  love 
that  is  real  ?  " 

"  Oh,  don't ;  you  hurt  me !  "  she  said,  sharply, 
and  I  saw  that  I  had  said  enough  for  once. 

But  from  that  moment  she  did  not  hide  from 
Malewicz  as  she  had  hidden  hitherto.  It  was  easy 
to  see  that,  in  the  respectfulness,  almost  the  rever- 
ence of  his  bearing  toward  her,  her  cruelly  wounded 
pride  had  found  its  first  balm.  To  know  that  he 
knew  everything  was  to  give  an  especial  value  to 
his  smallest  act  of  courtesy,  and  weight  to  his  every 
word.  And  in  this  crisis  the  man  showed  qualities 
for  which  I  had  never  credited  him.  The  un- 
gracious harshness  of  former  days  had  completely 
disappeared,  giving  way  to  a  considerateness,  almost 
a  gentleness,  which  was  better  proof  than  anything 
of  his  sentiments.  It  was  clear  that  for  her  he 
could  commit  the  prodigy  of  acting  against  his 
natural  propensities.  In  an  Englishman  such  a 
transformation  would  be  almost  impossible,  but 
these  slow  natures — even  the  most  stubborn  of 
them — have  a  suppleness  of  which  we  do  not 
dream.  In  a  thousand  delicate  ways  he  brought 
home  to  Jadwiga  the  convictions  that  the  stain 
which  rested  on  her  father  could  not  touch  her, 
that  to  him,  at  least,  she  was  the  same  woman,  the 


244  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

same  supreme  queen  that  she  had  been  before  the  fatal 
discovery  ;  and  it  was  wonderful  to  watch  how  little 
by  little  the  teaching  took  effect,  how  her  stricken 
self-esteem  raised  itself  up  once  more,  how  her 
smarting  spirit  was  slowly  soothed.  Surely  it  would 
have  been  wonderful  if  the  idea  had  not  obtruded 
itself  that  the  man  who  did  this  would  also  have 
been  capable  of  bearing  the  burden  with  her. 
There  had  always  been  something  a  little  artificial 
in  Jadwiga's  dislike  to  Malewicz,  just  as  there  had 
been  something  artificial  in  that  love,  fed  by 
poetry  and  inflamed  by  music,  which  she  had  felt 
for  Wladimir,  and  both  sentiments  had  now  come 
to  the  ground. 

But  in  all  this  I  am  anticipating.  It  was  not  in 
a  day  nor  a  week  that  this  happened,  and  other 
things  also  happened  during  the  time  I  am  telling 
of.  The  first  event  of  note  was  the  arrival  of 
Monsieur  Grimond's  long  looked  for  reply,  whose 
dry  business-like  phrases,  by  informing  us  that  the 
Vicomte  Achille  d'Urvain — the  last  of  his  name — 
had  entered  a  monastery  of  the  order  of  St.  Francis 
more  than  a  quarter  of  a  century  ago,  beyond 
which  point  it  became  difficult  to  trace  him,  owing 
the  monastic  change  of  name,  brought  us  the 
corroboration  of  our  surmises. 

The  certitude  scarcely  caused  any  great  emo- 
tion, even  to  Madame  Bielinska ;  she  had  been  sure 
already,  without  this  proof. 


O  N  E      Y  E  A  R  245 

"  I  am  afraid  there  is  not  much  more  to  be 
hoped  for  from  that  quarter,"  she  remarked.  "It 
is  fortunate  that  Krysztof  has  got  hold  of  other 
threads." 

And  really  it  was  fortunate.  Without  the  cor- 
respondence with  Paris  which  Malewicz  was  as- 
siduously cultivating,  I  scarcely  know  how  poor 
Madame  Bielinska  would  have  got  through  those 
weary  weeks  of  waiting,  for  Pan  Lewicki  had  not 
yet  come  home.  It  was  understood  that  he  had 
left  Karlsbad  and  that  father  and  son  were  making 
a  tour  in  the  Austrian  Alps,  perhaps  with  the 
object  of  letting  a  little  grass  grow  over  the  broken 
engagement.  Once  or  twice  Madame  Bielinska 
suggested  that  the  overseer  at  Krasno  must  surely 
be  able  to  forward  a  letter,  but  by  the  advice  of 
Malewicz,  who  proved  how  difficult  it  would  be  to 
treat  the  subject  by  writing,  she  always  desisted 
from  her  purpose. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

ABOUT  the  beginning  of  August,  I  observed  a 
change  in  Malewicz's  demeanour.  Knowing 
something  of  the  ardour  that  devoured  him  I  had 
marvelled  at  his  patience ;  now,  all  at  once,  it 
seemed  to  give  way  finally. 

The  first  time  that  this  fact  obtruded  itself  on 
my  notice  was  one  afternoon  when  he  joined  Jad- 
wiga  and  me  in  the  garden.  He  seemed  to  me  at 
once  more  preoccupied  than  usual,  and  I  noticed 
that  his  eyes  rested  on  Jadwiga  in  a  way  they 
had  never  dared  to  do  before.  The  conversation 
to-day  would  not  become  consecutive  ;  there  were 
frequent  pauses,  and  every  time  we  began  to  speak 
it  was  on  another  subject.  I  especially  remember 
one  remark  of  Malewicz's. 

"Those  flowers  are  lilies,  are  they  not  ?  "  he  be- 
gan abruptly,  after  a  pause  that  had  been  especially 
long,  and  looking  toward  an  oval  bed  which  lay  op- 
posite to  the  bench  we  were  sitting  on. 

"Of  course  they  are  lilies,"  answered  Jadwiga 
in  some  surprise. 

"  And  how  are  lilies  cultivated  ?  What  do 
they  require  to  make  them  grow  so  tall  and 
straight  ?  " 

246 


O  N  E      Y  E  A  R  247 

"  A  great  deal  of  water,"  said  Jadwiga,  thinking 
probably  that  he  had  snatched  at  the  first  available 
subject  of  conversation. 

"And  of  manure,  I  think  I  have  heard,"  said 
Malewicz. 

"  Yes,  manure  does  them  good,  certainly,  as  to 
almost  all  flowers." 

"  Is  it  not  strange,"  said  Malewicz,  musingly, 
"  that  so  fair  a  flower  as  a  lily  should  grow  out  of 
so  vile  a  thing  as  dung  ?  Have  you  ever  thought 
about  that  ?  Is  that  lily  less  spotless,  or  less 
precious  because  it  owes  so  many  elements  of  its 
being  to  the  dunghill  ?  Would  any  one  hesitate 
to  gather  it  because  of  that  thought  ?  Not  I  for 
one !  What  care  I  where  it  comes  from  or  what 
was  before  it  ?  A  lily  is  to  me  a  lily,  and  my 
hand  would  stretch  instantly  toward  it,  if  only  the 
precious  flower  would  consent  to  be  gathered  by 
my  fingers." 

He  looked  from  the  flower-bed  toward  Jadwiga 
as  he  spoke,  and  his  glance  was  yet  plainer  than  his 
words.  But  she  was  gazing  straight  away  in  front 
of  her,  and  her  colour  neither  rose  nor  fell ;  it  was 
almost  as  though  she  had  not  heard. 

When  he  was  gone  she  turned  toward  me. 

"  I  know  what  he  meant,"  she  said,  looking  at 
me  steadily.  "  It  was  a  strange  way  of  putting  it, 
but  I  understand  quite  well." 

"  And  is  it  impossible  that  the  lily  should  ever 


248  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

allow  itself  to  be  gathered  by  that  hand  ?  "  I  asked, 
with  some  trepidation,  for  I  had  as  yet  no  clue  to 
her  present  attitude  of  mind. 

She  slowly  shook  her  head. 

"  Neither  by  that  nor  by  any  other  hand.  I  know 
what  you  have  been  imagining  all  this  time.  You 
think  that  because  I  tolerate  his  presence  I  may 
get  to  feel  for  him  what  I  know  he  feels  for  me. 
I  am  only  trying  to  pay  off  a  little  of  the  debt  I 
owe  him,  for  I  am  very  guilty  toward  him.  I 
have  misjudged  him  cruelly,  and  treated  him 
cruelly  too,  and  I  am  deeply  ashamed  of  having 
done  so,  and  would  show  him  that  he  has  all  my 
esteem, — but  love  ?  I  have  no  more  love  to  give, 
— not  the  love  that  men  want ;  men  themselves 
have  killed  it,  in  the  person  of  that  one  man  on 
whom  I  set  my  faith  and  who  failed  me." 

The  frank  acknowledgment  was  exactly  what  I 
should  have  expected  from  her  intrinsically  gener- 
ous nature,  but  the  hopelessness  of  her  tone  cut  me 
to  the  quick. 

"  But  if  your  love  was  still  to  be  given,"  I 
urged,  "  can  you  doubt  that  this  would  be  the  right 
man  to  give  it  to  ?  " 

There  was  a  slight  disturbance  in  her  eyes  as 
she  looked  at  me,  and  faint  though  it  was  I  noted 
it  with  hope. 

"  No,"  she  said  slowly.  "  He  might  have  been 
worthy, — I  believe  he  is  worthy."  It  was  strange 


O  N  E      Y  E  A  R  249 

to  note  how  even  in  her  humiliation  her  woman's 
pride  still  valued  the  gift  within  her  power  to  be- 
stow. 

She  was  silent  for  a  minute  now,  plunged  in  such 
deep  thought  that  I  shrank  from  disturbing  her. 
Then,  without  changing  her  attitude,  she  spoke 
again. 

"  I  feel — I  will  tell  you  what  I  feel  about  it, — I 
feel  as  if  I  had  had  the  chance  of  loving  him  and 
had  missed  it.  Do  you  remember  that  day  last 
year — it  was  soon  after  you  came — when  I  con- 
sulted you — not  quite  seriously  I  think — about  the 
choice  of  a  lover  ?  If  I  had  taken  your  advice 
then  all  probably  would  have  been  different ;  and  I 
could  have  taken  it,  for  to  the  best  of  my  belief  I 
loved  neither  of  them  at  that  moment,  but  I  could 
have  loved  either  of  them,  for  my  heart  was  full  of 
tenderness  which  had  to  be  spent.  It  was  like 
standing  at  a  cross-road  without  knowing  what  was 
at  the  end  of  either  way, — well,  and  I  took  the 
wrong  turn,  that  is  all." 

"  But  your  steps  can  be  retraced,"  I  said,  "you 
have  begun  to  retrace  them  already." 

But  Jadwiga  only  shook  her  head  and  said  : 
"  Not  now ;  it  could  have  been  then,  but  not 
now." 

Next  time  Malewicz  came  to  the  house  I  man- 
aged to  waylay  him. 

"  You  must  not  be  imprudent,"  I  said.     "  She 


250  ONE      YEAR 

is  not  ready  to  listen  to  you.  You  must  give  her 
time." 

In  reply  he  burst  out  impatiently : — 

"Time  !  time  !  Always  that  talk  of  time  when 
every  day  is  precious  !  Have  I  not  given  her  time 
enough  already  ?  She  is  used  to  my  presence  now ; 
I  cannot  go  on  playing  the  family  friend  for  ever." 

I  was  too  surprised  to  make  much  answer,  and 
very  soon  it  was  forced  upon  me  that  my  warning 
had  been  absolutely  wasted.  The  strong  guard 
which  until  now  Malewicz  had  put  both  upon  his 
eyes  and  upon  his  speech  was  abruptly  removed. 
Within  a  few  days  he  had  thrown  off  the  disguise 
under  which  he  had  hitherto  figured,  and  appeared 
as  what  he  was,  an  urgent  and  impatient  lover. 
Jadwiga  could  no  longer  doubt  that  he  was  paying 
her  his  addresses ;  and  yet,  although  she  never  by 
word  or  glance  encouraged  his  hopes,  it  was  much 
already  that  she  did  not  avoid  him  entirely.  No 
doubt  her  heart  was  too  sick  to  allow  of  her  using 
toward  him  those  means  of  discouragement  which 
she  had  used  once  before ;  and,  more  likely  still, 
the  balm  of  his  friendship  was  too  welcome  to  be 
foregone. 

In  surprise,  almost  in  consternation,  I  looked  on 
at  Malewicz's  headlong  tactics.  His  urgency 
seemed  to  me  not  only  unwise  in  the  extreme,  but 
also  indelicate.  Repeatedly  I  warned  him,  but  he 
only  laughed  in  my  face. 


O  N  E      YE  A  R  251 

"  Patience  ?  "  he  would  say.  "  Don't  talk  to 
me  of  that !  Have  you  any  notion  of  the  amount 
of  patience  it  has  taken  me  to  get  to  this  point  ? 
But  the  time  for  patience  is  past  now ;  if  she  is  to 
be  gained  at  all  it  can  only  be  by  storm,  believe  me." 

And  again  my  words  were  cast  to  the  winds,  and 
his  efforts  redoubled  instead  of  relaxing. 

Madame  Bielinska  did  not  seem  to  notice  any- 
thing especial.  To  her  Krysztof  was  still  only  a 
secretary  and  adviser,  but  I  confess  I  felt  curious 
regarding  the  attitude  of  the  other  mother — 
KrysztoPs  mother — in  the  matter.  This  curiosity 
was  to  be  speedily  satisfied. 

"  Tell  me,  Miss  Middleton,"  Madame  Malewicz 
said  to  me  one  day  when  she  had  accompanied  her 
son  to  Ludniki,  and  at  a  moment  when  we  found 
ourselves  alone,  "  do  you  think  Krysztof  has  a 
chance  ? " 

"  Would  you  be  glad  if  I  said  l  yes '  ? "  I  in- 
quired, looking  at  her  curiously. 

"  Glad  ?  Why,  of  course  I  should.  Is  he  not 
my  only  boy  ?  " 

"  And  you  have  no  objection  to  seeing  your  only 
boy  married  to  the  daughter  of  a  cheater  at  cards, 
who,  besides,  would  bring  him  no  portion  ?  " 

"  Why,  you  see  it  is  this  way,"  said  the  old  lady 
in  some  slight  embarrassment,  "  it  is  not  she  who 
cheated  at  cards,  but  her  father,  and  how  do  any 
of  us  know  what  was  the  exact  moral  worth  of 


252  O  N  E      YE  A  R 

our  ancestors,  or  whether  they  might  not  have  suc- 
cumbed under  such  a  temptation  ?  Even  granted 
they  would  not,  she^  at  any  rate,  is  innocent,  so 
why  should  she  be  punished  ? 

"And  as  for  the  money,"  went  on  Madame 
Malewicz,  "  Krysztof  assures  me  that  there  will 
be  enough  remaining  to  live  in  a  quiet  way.  I 
never  understand  about  money  matters,  but  he  has 
such  an  excellent  head,  and  if  they  don't  mind  liv- 
ing in  a  small  way,  why  should  I  ?  I  have  so  few 
wants,  you  know,  and  am  so  easily  satisfied  (this 
was  an  idee  fixe  of  the  dear  old  creature).  And, 
besides,  Krysztof  thinks  it  will  be  better  to  sell  the 
estate  and  go  to  live  in  some  place  where  nobody 
knows  the  story.  He  talks  of  Abbazzia  or  Como, 
and  I  have  always  longed  to  see  the  south  !  " 

Her  black  eyes  sparkled  as  she  said  it  like  the  eyes 
of  the  veriest  girl,  and  her  small,  but  alas !  bright 
yellow  teeth  were  displayed  in  a  delighted  smile. 

Oh,  blessed  irresponsibility  !  If  it  was  foolish, 
I  had  only  to  think  of  how  others  had  acted  in  or- 
der to  find  it  a  noble  sort  of  foolishness.  From 
that  side  clearly  there  was  no  opposition  to  be  feared 

Thinking  back  of  that  time  I  cannot  exactly  dis- 
entangle the  sequence  of  incidents  ;  possibly  I  may 
not  have  given  them  quite  in  their  right  places,  but 
of  the  general  outline  of  these'  weeks  I  am  certain. 
Single  pictures  rise  in  my  memory,  standing  out 
sharply  from  the  haze  of  forgotten  hours.  The 


O  N  E      Y  E  A  R  253 

background  of  these  pictures  was  always  either  the 
white  pillars  of  the  verandah  or  the  leafy  depths  of 
the  park,  for  it  was  a  life  almost  of  imprisonment 
that  we  led,  since  nothing  could  induce  Jadwiga  to 
leave  the  precincts  of  her  home.  The  only  glimpses 
which  she  now  had  of  the  outer  world  were  from 
the  top  of  an  old  summerhouse  which  had  an  up- 
per story,  and  from  which,  between  the  crowns  of 
the  trees,  the  horison  was  visible.  From  up  there 
among  the  overblown  honeysuckle  which  held  the 
rotting  pillars  tightly  clasped  in  its  saving  embrace, 
she  could  watch  the  wide  plain  turn  from  pale  gold 
to  dark  gold — for  all  that  was  visible  of  the  country 
from  here  was  one  vast  cornfield — a  sea  of  one 
uniform  tint,  sometimes  ruffled  like  the  sea  into 
ripples  that  went  to  break  on  some  unseen  shore, 
sometimes  motionless  beneath  a  deep  blue  sky,  be- 
calmed as  the  sea  itself  can  be  in  perfect  autumn 
days. 

Among  the  pictures  aforenamed  there  rises  up 
one  which  I  see  more  clearly  than  the  rest.  The 
harvest  had  been  going  on  for  some  time  now. 
One  day,  from  the  top  of  our  watch  tower,  we 
saw  that  the  plain  was  no  longer  golden,  but  of  a 
dead,  greyish-green  tint,  and  at  the  same  time  we 
heard  the  sound  of  singing  approaching  from  the 
village  street. 

"  The  harvest  wreath  !  the  harvest  wreath  !  " 
cried  Anulka,  clapping  her  hands  with  joy.  "They 


254  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

are  bringing  the  harvest  wreath  !  Oh,  come,  Jad- 
wiga,  we  must  be  there  !  " 

"  I  am  not  coming,"  said  Jadwiga  indifferently. 

I  knew  it  was  customary  in  Poland  for  the  field 
workers  on  the  last  day  of  the  harvest,  to  come  in 
procession  to  the  summerhouse,  one  of  the  girls 
being  crowned  with  a  wreath  of  corn  ears,  to  be 
laid  at  the  feet  of  the  lord  or  lady  of  the  house. 
Curious  to  see  this  picturesque  ceremony  I  followed 
Anulka  as  she  careered  back  toward  the  house.  A 
strong  scent  of  garlic  was  the  first  thing  that  ap- 
prised me  of  the  vicinity  of  the  singers,  who  were 
grouped  on  the  verandah;  the  women's  coloured 
head  cloths  making  bright  blotches  of  red  and  yel- 
low against  the  white  pillars,  their  flashing  teeth 
displayed,  as  they  shouted  out  the  harvest  song. 
There  was  the  bristling,  monstrous  wreath  on  the 
head  of  a  handsome  sun- burnt  girl  and  there,  too, 
was  Madame  Bielinska,  standing  in  the  full  light 
of  the  day,  and  smiling  graciously  at  her  subordi- 
nates, who  stared  back  at  her  as  though  at  one 
arisen  from  the  dead ;  and  well  they  might,  seeing 
that  they  had  not  seen  her  for  eleven  years.  I  have 
had  the  song  translated  to  me  since  and  noted 'down 
the  queer  and  so  oddly  inappropriate  verses : 

"  We  have  a  proud  mistress, 
She  comes  to  the  door, 
Her  keys  ring  in  her  hand, 
She  thanks  God  the  corn  is  gathered. 


O  N  E      Y  E  A  R  255 

"  Our  master  comes  not. 
He  is  gone  to  Swow, 
He  takes  corn  with  him, 
He  brings  back  money. 

"  Master,  sell  thy  grey  cow, 
Master  sell  thy  brown  cow, 
Master  sell  thy  black  cow, 
And  buy  us  -wodki. 

"  White  feathers  has  our  cock, 
But  black  are  the  master's  eyes. 
He  lives  among  the  corn, 
And  the  corn  looks  toward  him. 

"  The  corn  bows  before  him, 
The  corn  lies  at  his  feet, 
He  puts  out  his  hand 
And  the  corn  comes  to  him. 

"  Our  master  has  a  golden  house 
With  a  golden  door 
And  a  golden  window. 
His  labourers  stand  around  him. 

"  Little  grey  quail, 
Wilt  thou  still  hide  ? 
We  have  cut  away  the  corn, 
Thou  canst  not  lie  under  it. 

"  The  moon  is  on  our  path, 
Our  wreath  is  on  our  head, 
We  shall  not  go  astray 
Nor  lose  our  wreath. 

"  The  meadow  has  spoken 
And  it  has  told  us 
That  the  master  has  wodki 
And  many  glasses  in  a  row. 


256  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

"  We  bring  you  the  corn 
Of  all  your  fields. 
May  you  sow  again, 
And  may  you  reap." 

When  my  ears  began  to  ache  I  withdrew  noise- 
lessly, and  at  the  same  time  Malewicz  detached 
himself  from  the  group  of  spectators.  He  spoke 
very  little  as  he  walked  by  my  side.  Presently 
Anulka  came  running  after  us ;  the  wreath  of  corn- 
ears  which  I  had  just  seen  on  the  head  of  the  vil- 
lage girl  now  hung  round  her  neck  like  a  necklace. 
She  ran  past  us  to  where  Jadwiga  sat  alone,  and, 
wriggling  her  thin  neck  out  of  the  wreath,  put  it 
quickly  on  to  her  sister's  head. 

"  Oh,  you  look  so  lovely  in  it ! "  she  cried, 
"  much  prettier  than  Hania  Wasylko  looked  !  " 

Jadwiga  put  up  her  hand  impatiently  and  pulled 
it  off. 

"  It  is  the  last  harvest  wreath  they  will  bring 
us,"  she  said,  contemplating  it  as  it  lay  in  her  lap. 
"  They  indeed  will  reap  again,  but  we  shall  not 
sow.  Poor  wretches !  They  do  not  know  that 
by  this  time  next  year  we  shall  have  sold  not 
only  our  grey  and  brown  cows  but  also  our 
house ! " 

Then  she  looked  up  suddenly  into  Malewicz's 
face. 

"  Tell  me,"  she  said  almost  sharply,  "  is  this 
correspondence  of  yours  ever  going  to  bring  any 


O  N  E      Y  E  A  R  257 

result  ?  Is  seems  to  me  that  you  are  always  writing 
letters  and  never  getting  answers  or,  at  any  rate, 
no  answers  that  bring  us  a  step  further." 

To  my  knowledge  this  was  the  first  time  that 
Jadwiga  had  referred  to  the  subject  thus  directly 
to  Malewicz.  He  looked  surprised,  but  answered 
immediately : 

"  On  the  contrary  ;  we  have  got  several  steps 
further  already.  The  last  letter  from  Paris  brought 
us  two  new  names,  in  the  bearer  of  one  of  which 
I  hope  to  discover  the  person  we  need." 

Jadwiga  sighed  and  said  nothing  more,  and  Male- 
wicz took  the  first  opportunity  of  changing  the 
subject. 

As  it  so  happened  it  was  I  who,  against  my  own 
will,  pushed  Malewicz  prematurely  to  put  his  fate 
to  the  touch. 

I  was  talking  one  afternoon  to  the  old  postman 
Andrej,  discussing  the  health  of  his  wife.  Since  I 
had  begun  to  visit  her  Andrej  exhausted  himself  in 
all  sorts  of  little  cares  for  me,  meant  to  prove  his 
gratitude.  He  would  pursue  me  with  glasses  of 
wine  of  which  I  had  no  need  whatever,  and  did 
all  that  lay  in  his  power  to  make  me  take  to  the 
national  w'odki — fortunately  without  effect.  To- 
day he  had  surreptitiously  brought  me  a  slice  of 
cake — he  seemed  to  labour  under  the  delusion  that 
I  was  chronically  starving — and  while  I  was  eating 
a  little  of  it  to  please  him,  we  carried  on  as  much 


258  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

conversation  as  our  mutual  broken  German  al- 
lowed of. 

"  It  is  not  Zosia  alone "  (Zosia  was  his  wife) 
"  who  looks  white,"  said  the  good  soul,  after  sev- 
eral preliminary  sighs.  "  Just  look  at  our  young 
lady  !  It  is  a  pity  she  does  not  drink  wbdki" 

"  I  doubt  whether  wbdki  would  do  her  any  good," 
I  replied,  trying  not  to  smile. 

"  I  know  what  would,"  said  Andrej  quickly,  and 
then,  with  the  privilege  of  an  old  servant,  he  added  : 
41  If  the  Krasno  carriage  would  stand  at  our  door 
that  would  do  her  good." 

"Nonsense,  Andrej,"  I  said  provoked.  "You 
must  not  speak  like  that.  Our  young  lady  and 
that  young  gentleman  have  found  out  in  time  that 
they  do  not  suit  each  other,  and  she  is  not  think- 
ing of  him  at  all  now — believe  me  !  And,  besides 
that,  he  is  far  away  now." 

"  Not  further  away  than  Krasno,"  said  Andrej 
obstinately. 

"  He  is  not  at  Krasno ;  he  is  in  the  Alps." 

"  Then  either  Jan  is  deaf  or  Michal  is  blind," 
replied  Andrej. 

"  Who  is  Michal  ?  " 

"The  Krasno  coachman.  It  is  close  upon  a 
week  ago  that  you  spoke  to  him  in  the  market- 
place at  Zloczek.  He  was  standing  there  waiting 
with  the  four  grey  horses  in  the  britzska — the 
one  that  is  only  brought  out  when  the  master  him- 


O  N  E      Y  E  A  R  259 

self  is  there — and  he  told  Jan  that  the  family 
had  been  home  for  two  days  already,  and  that  Pan 
Lewicki's  rheumatism  had  been  washed  away  by 
the  waters." 

u  Are  you  sure  of  this  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  I  am  sure  of  what  Jan  told  me,"  said  Andrej 
a  little  sulkily,  "  but  you  can  ask  him  yourself  if 
you  think  I'm  maundering." 

I  left  the  rest  of  my  cake  on  the  plate  and  went 
straight  to  Madame  Bielinska.  Malewicz  was  in 
the  room,  but  I  did  not  think  of  looking  toward 
him  as  I  rapidly  began  to  speak. 

"  Just  fancy  what  I  have  heard.  Pan  Lewicki 
is  back ;  he  has  been  back  for  more  than  a  week,  it 
seems."  And  I  repeated  what  I  had  heard  from 
Andrej. 

Madame  Bielinska's  pale  face  grew  red  all  over 
as  she  listened.  Without  immediately  speaking  she 
turned  her  sunken  eyes  reproachfully  upon  Male- 
wicz. 

"  A  week !  "  she  repeated  after  a  moment.  "  A 
whole  week !  And  you  promised  so  faithfully  to 
keep  watch ! " 

For  the  first  time  in  my  experience  of  Malewicz 
I  saw  him  out  of  countenance. 

"  It  cannot  be  so  long  as  that,"  he  said  quickly. 
"  I  should  surely  have  heard  of  it ;  he  may  be  here 
since  yesterday  or  the  day  before " 

"  It  was   last  week   that  Jan  saw  the  carriage  at 


26o  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

Zloczek,"  I  said  looking  at  him,  and  astonished  to 
meet  so  disturbed  a  gaze. 

He  gave  an  embarrassed  laugh. 

"  Well,  that  only  shows  what  a  bad  detective  I 
am ;  but  I  did  my  best,  believe  me,  I  did  my  best." 

He  sighed  so  heavily  with  the  last  words  that 
Madame  Bielinska's  anger  melted. 

"  Well,  I  forgive  you,  but  there  must  not  be  an- 
other moment  lost.  It  is  too  late  for  to-day.  To- 
morrow before  breakfast  a  messenger  shall  be  at 
Krasno,  and  shall  ask  Bazyli  to  visit  me  immedi- 
ately." 

Malewicz  bent  his  head,  as  though  in  acquies- 
cence, but  without  speaking.  When,  a  few 
minutes  later,  I  left  the  room  he  followed  me  into 
the  passage. 

"  Where  is  Pani  Jadwiga  ?  "  he  asked  in  an  agi- 
tated whisper.  "  Not  in  her  room,  I  hope  ?  " 

There  had  been  a  thunderstorm  that  afternoon, 
succeeded  by  a  faint  drizzle  of  rain  which  kept  us 
indoors. 

u  She  is  in  the  drawing-room,  I  believe,"  I  said. 
"  She  had  an  idea  of  practising,  although  I  do  not 
hear  the  piano." 

Seeing  him  now  at  close  quarters  I  perceived  a 
strained  look  about  his  mouth,  which  I  had  got  to 
associate  with  his  moments  of  strong  emotion.  , 

"  Very  well.  Be  so  kind  as  not  to  follow  me 
there,"  he  said  briefly. 


ONE      YEAR  261 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  ? "  I  asked. 
"  Surely  not  to " 

"  I  am  not  bound  to  answer  that  question,"  he 
said  in  the  same  tone  of  extreme  irritation.  "  I 
only  ask  you  not  to  disturb  me." 

"  Is  it  Wladimir's  return  that  is  exciting  you 
so  ?  "  I  persisted.  "  If  so,  believe  me,  you  have 
nothing  to  fear ;  she  does  not  think  of  him  at  all." 

He  looked  as  though  he  were  laughing,  although 
no  sound  came. 

"  Wladimir !  "  he  said,  in  an  accent  of  inimi- 
table contempt.  "  What  do  I  care  for  the  boy  !  " 
And,  brushing  past  me,  he  went  toward  the  draw- 
ing-room. 

I  did  not  see  him  again  that  day,  and  it  was  only 
late  at  night  that  I  saw  Jadwiga  alone  ;  but  the  first 
glance  I  had  of  her  face  told  me  how  matters  stood. 

While  I  was  brushing  out  my  hair  before  the 
glass  the  door  softly  opened,  and  a  white-robed 
form  stole  in  and  sat  down  in  silence  on  my  bed. 
It  was  many  months  now  since  she  had  come  in 
thus,  for  since  the  shock  of  the  catastrophe  she 
had  been  chary  of  her  confidences.  My  heart 
swelled  as  I  thought  of  happier  days,  so  recent  and 
yet  so  irrevocably  lost,  when  she  had  sat  exactly 
as  she  sat  now,  only  with  something  so  different  in 
her  eyes. 

"  Do  you  know  what  I  have  done  to-day  ?  "  she 
asked  after  a  moment. 


ONE      YEAR 


"  You  have  refused  Malewi.cz  ?  "  I  said,  looking 
at  what  I  could  see  of  her  profile  in  the  glass. 

"  Do  you  think  it  very  foolish  of  me  ?  "  she 
humbly  inquired. 

"  I  think  it  much  more  foolish  of  him  to  press 
you  for  your  decision  now  ;  in  six  months'  time 
your  answer  might  perhaps  have  been  different." 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?  "  she  asked,  looking  at  me 
earnestly,  but  refraining  from  direct  contradiction, 
a  symptom  which  I  at  once  put  down  as  favour- 
able. "  Then  I  wish  he  had  waited.  It  hurts  me 
to  hurt  him,  but  how  can  I  say  '  Yes  '  to  him  when 
I  am  not  sure  whether  what  I  feel  is  not  only  grat- 
itude for  his  devotion  ?  " 

"  At  any  rate  she  is  not  sure  that  she  does  not 
care  for  him,"  I  commented  in  my  own  mind. 

u  You  acknowledge  his  devotion  ?  "  I  said  aloud. 

"  I  not  only  acknowledge  it,  I  suffer  under  it. 
It  is  dreadful  to  owe  so  much  to  a  person,  and  not 
to  be  able  to  pay  him  back." 

She  mused  for  a  moment  with  her  eyes  on  the 
ground. 

"  If  I  had  known  him  last  year  as  I  know  him 
now " 

I  rose  from  my  place  before  the  mirror,  and, 
going  up  to  where  she  sat,  took  her  two  hands  be- 
tween my  own. 

"  Stop  thinking  of  last  year,  Jadwiga,"  I  said, 
stooping  down  so  as  to  look  into  her  eyes. 


O  N  E      Y  E  A  R  263 

"  Think  of  this  moment  only — of  this  moment 
and  of  the  future.  You  made  a  mistake  then,  but, 
believe  me,  it  is  not  too  late  yet.  You  have  time 
enough  to  learn  to  love  him,  and  you  will  have  to 
love  somebody — you  are  not  made  to  live  alone. 
Why  not  choose  this  man  who  has  proved  his 
faithfulness  so  brilliantly  ?  " 

Jadwiga  looked  at  me  in  astonishment,  a  sort  of 
far-off  hope  dawning  in  the  depth  of  her  dark 
eyes. 

"  Perhaps,"  she  said,  hesitatingly,  "  you  may  be 
right — I  don't  know,  but  it  is  so  quick,  so  terribly 
quick.  How  good  you  are,  Eleanor !  Even 
though  I  may  not  know  what  I  feel  for  him,  I  am 
quite  sure  that  I  love  you  !  " 

She  kissed  me  with  one  of  her  haunting  smiles, 
and  disappeared  again  through  the  door. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

LOOKING  out  of  the  window  on  the  following 
afternoon  I  saw  a  britzska  with  four  grey  horses 
sweeping  up  to  the  door.  This  meant  that,  despite 
the  rupture,  Pan  Lewicki  had  immediately  answered 
Madame  Bielinska's  summons.  No  less  was  to  be 
expected  from  Polish  courtesy.  He  came  alone, 
of  course ;  indeed,  as  I  afterward  ascertained,  An- 
drej's  information  was  so  far  incorrect  that  Wladi- 
mir  had  not  come  home  with  his  father,  but  had 
started  to  travel  in  the  East.  I  watched  the  pictur- 
esque giant  alighting  without  any  especial  emotion. 
From  the  first  the  hope  which  my  employer  had 
set  upon  the  revelations  he  might  be  expected  to 
make  had  appeared  to  me  extravagant.  It  is  true 
that  he  was  the  one  surviving  member  of  the  gam- 
bling trio  which  had  tried  to  ruin  itself  in  Paris 
thirty  years  ago,  but  it  did  not  seem  to  me  likely 
that  he  would  be  able  to  do  more  than  add  a  few 
names  to  the  list  of  those  French  acquaintances 
with  whom  their  gay  days  had  been  spent.  Never 
in  my  life  was  I  so  mistaken. 

The  interview  was  lengthy.    More  than  an  hour 
passed  before  I  saw  Pan  Lewicki  again  taking  his 
seat   in   his   britzska   and   covering  his  handsome, 
iron-grey  head  with  the  square  Polish  tartatka. 
264 


O  N  E      Y  E  A  R  265 

I  was  watching  him  out  of  sight  when  the  door 
behind  me  opened,  and,  turning  round,  I  beheld 
to  my  astonishment  Madame  Bielinska  entering. 
Since  I  dwelt  under  her  roof  this  was  the  first  time 
that  I  had  seen  her  here.  Her  face  was  flushed 
and  shining  with  excitement. 

"  Where  is  Jadwiga  ?  "  she  said,  stuttering  a  lit- 
tle in  her  haste.  "  Call  her  quickly,  I  beg  of  you ! 
Oh,  Miss  Middleton,  we  have  found  him — we 
have  found  him  at  last !  "  And,  to  my  consterna- 
tion, she  half  fell  into  my  arms,  clinging  convul- 
sively round  my  neck,  and  doing  something  which 
was  neither  laughing  nor  crying,  or  which,  per- 
haps, was  a  mixture  of  both. 

"  Pan  Lewicki  has  found  him  for  you  ? "  I 
asked,  guiding  her  carefully  to  a  chair.  "  Is  that 
what  you  mean  ?  " 

"Yes,  yes,  that  is  it  j  and  can  you  imagine  who 
it  is  ?  Guess  !  " 

"How  can  I  possibly  do  that  ?  "  I  objected.  "I 
have  got  all  those  French  names  completely  mixed 
up." 

"  But  it  is  not  a  French  name  at  all ;  it  is  a 
Polish  name,"  she  said,  shaking  my  arm  as  she  held 
it.  "  I  don't  know  why  we  took  for  granted  from 
the  first  that  it  was  a  Frenchman  whom  Hazimir 
had  cheated ;  it  was  not  a  Frenchman,  it  was  his 
own  compatriot,  his  friend.  Oh,  can't  you  guess 
now  ?  " 


266  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

"Not  Pan  Lewicki  himself?  "  I  asked,  in  grow- 
ing bewilderment. 

"  No — the  other  one,  Krysztof,  nobody  else  but 
our  good  friend  Krysztof !  " — she  almost  screamed, 
and  this  time  she  gripped  my  arm  with  painful 
force. 

The  want  of  government  in  her  demeanour  from 
the  moment  she  had  entered  the  room  had  made 
me  fear  that  her  mind  was  slightly  unhinged,  now 
I  thought  I  was  sure  of  it ;  I  therefore  answered  as 
gently  as  possible  : — 

"Surely  there  must  be  a  mistake  here,  dear  Ma- 
dame; you  forget  that  Krysztof  was  barely  born 
when  these  things  happened." 

"  Not  he  but  his  father ;  don't  you  understand  ? 
It  can  be  no  other.  Bazyli  remembers  those  two 
evenings  quite  well,  the  one  on  which  Malewicz — 
Stepan  Malewicz — won  so  greatly  from  Hazimir, 
and  the  following  evening  on  which  he  lost  much 
more  heavily.  The  duel  at  cards  between  them 
was  one  of  the  events  of  the  club  season.  Bazyli 
was  among  the  spectators  who  stood  round  watch- 
ing; he  remembers  the  Vicomte  perfectly  and  his 
departure  for  Africa — he  thinks  he  can  even  re- 
member the  mirror  on  the  wall,  for  that  old  man's 
memory  is  as  keen  as  a  knife  and  as  clear  as  glass. 
He  always  had  a  good  head  and  gambled  as  me- 
thodically as  he  did  everything  else.  The  dates  in 
the  letter  tally  exactly  with  those  in  his  memory — 


ONE      YEAR 267 

everything  tallies — there  can  be  no  doubt  Stepan 
Malewicz  is  the  man  who  was  wronged  by  Hazi- 
mir,  and  Krysztof  is  his  only  son — therefore  it  is  to 
him  that  we  owe  restitution — it  is  he  who  is  the 
real  master  of  Ludniki." 

In  that  moment  I  perceived  Jadwiga  standing  in 
the  doorway,  with  her  garden-hat  in  her  hand. 
Her  figure  was  stiff,  almost  to  immobility,  only  her 
eyes  moved  slowly  from  her  mother  to  me. 

"  Jadwiga,  my  child,  we  have  found  him  !  "  said 
Madame  Bielinska,  stretching  her  arms  toward  her 
daughter.  "  Bazyli  says " 

"  I  have  heard  what  he  says,"  said  Jadwiga, 
speaking  with  some  difficulty,  "  but  may  he  not  be 
mistaken  ? " 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  I  put  in,  "  that  these  are  sur- 
mises, very  plausible  surmises  certainly,  but  yet  not 
proofs." 

"To  me  it  is  proved  already,"  said  Madame 
Bielinska  hastily,  afraid  evidently  of  having  her  dis- 
covery wrenched  from  her. 

u  But  the  Malewiczs  are  poor,"  I  objected, 
"  and  in  your  husband's  letter  it  is  expressly  stated 
that  his  opponent  is  rich,  and  can  spare  the 
money." 

"  So  he  could  at  the  time ;  it  was  in  the  golden 
days  of  the  family.  Hazimir  stopped  gambling 
after  that  visit  to  Paris,  but  Stepan  Malewicz  did 
not,  although  he  had  a  wife  and  a  child  already ; 


268  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

that  evening  at  the  club  was  only  one  in  a  series 
of  disastrous  evenings  for  him.  And  Hazimir 
could  look  on  at  the  ruin  consummating  itself,  and 
could  keep  to  himself  the  money  which  would  at 
least  have  averted  the  worst !  "  There  was  inex- 
pressible contempt  on  her  emaciated  face  as  she 
said  it,  and  her  thin,  long-fingered  hands  closed 
slowly  upon  her  knee.  Then  a  faint  smile  flick- 
ered over  her  features. 

"Poor  Krysztof!  What  a  surprise  for  him  to 
find  that  he  is  after  all  not  quite  a  beggar !  And 
to  think  that  he  was  looking  for  himself  all  the 
time  !  " 

She  gave  a  broken  laugh  and  looked  toward  her 
daughter,  as  though  for  sympathy  in  what  evidently 
struck  her  as  an  excellent  joke;  but  neither  on 
Jadwiga's  white  face  nor  in  her  wide,  perplexed 
eyes  was  there  any  response. 

u  I  suppose  he  will  be  coming  to-day,"  said  Ma- 
dame Bielinska,  as  she  rose. 

But  Malewicz  did  not  come  that  day,  as,  indeed, 
after  yesterday's  events  was  not  to  be  expected. 
Madame  Bielinska  waited  in  a  fever  until  late  at 
night,  and  next  morning  early  the  same  messenger 
who  had  been  sent  to  Krasno  was  despatched  to 
Roma  Wielka. 

That  next  day  was  the  first  of  September,  a  date 
which,  for  various  reasons,  I  am  not  likely  to  for- 
get. That  it  should  prove  a  turning-point  in  Jad- 


O  N  E      Y  E  A  R  269 

wiga's  life  was  to  be  foreseen,  but  nothing  warned 
me  that  to  me,  too,  it  was  to  bring  a  crisis. 

Jaclwiga  and  I  were  both  sitting  with  Madame 
Bielinska  when  toward  midday  Malewicz  was  an- 
nounced. I  expected  to  see  Jadwiga  take  instantly 
to  flight,  but  to  my  surprise  she  kept  her  place, 
only  stiffening  a  little  in  her  chair  and  drawing  in 
her  under-lip  between  her  teeth,  a  trick  she  had 
when  her  nerves  were  off  their  balance.  As  the 
door  opened  I  could  see  a  thrill  pass  through  her 
from  head  to  foot,  then  my  eyes  turned  irresistibly 
toward  the  newcomer,  and  immediately  something 
in  his  face  gave  me  a  fresh  shock  of  astonishment. 
Almost  in  the  same  moment,  and  before  any  one 
had  spoken,  Jadwiga  sprang  to  her  feet. 

"  You  know  it  !  "  she  cried  shrilly,  "  you  know 
it !  It  is  true  then,  since  you  know  it !  " 

My  thoughts  had  not  yet  been  able  to  follow 
hers,  and  already  I  vaguely  felt  that  she  was  right. 
Whether  Malewicz  had  come  here  with  the  inten- 
tion of  acting  complete  ignorance  I  do  not  know, 
but,  be  that  as  it  may,  the  sudden  attack,  coming 
from  so  unexpected  a  quarter,  had  thrown  him  mo- 
mentarily off  his  guard.  His  face,  during  that  one 
minute  of  silence,  in  which  he  was  evidently  try- 
ing to  speak,  was  a  plain  avowal.  Madame  Bie- 
linska,  who,  as  little  as  I,  had  suspected  the  truth, 
which  Jadwiga's  instinct  had  somehow  leapt  at, 
looked  inquiringly  at  all  our  faces  in  turn. 


270  ONE      Y  P:  A  R 

The  silence  had  not  lasted  more  than  a  few  mo- 
ments when  Jadwiga,  without  saying  a  further 
word,  flung  out  of  the  second  door. 

I  was  preparing  to  follow  when  Madame  Bie- 
linska  said  quickly  and  with  a  loftiness  which  as- 
tonished me  — 

"  Miss  Middleton,  you  will  oblige  me  by  staying. 
There  is  something  here  which  perhaps  you  can 
help  me  to  understand.  Tell  me  " — and  she  turned 
to  Malewicz — "  is  it  as  she  says  ?  You  are  not 
only  the  person  I  have  been  looking  for  all  summer, 
but  you  know  it  ?  " 

Malewicz  seemed  to  be  hesitating,  then  a  cloud 
of  sullenness  settled  on  his  features. 

"  Be  it  so,"  he  said.  "  I  am  that  person  and  I 
know  it.  The  comedy  need  be  carried  no  further, 
since  it  has  lost  its  point." 

Madame  Bielinska's  skin-and-bone  hands  tight- 
ened on  the  two  carved  knobs  of  her  chair,  as  she 
measured  him  with  a  glance  that  was  almost  a  glare. 

"You  knew  it,"  she  said  with  badly  suppressed 
rage,  "  you  knew  it,  and  you  have  pretended  to  be 
my  friend  and  my  helper !  False  man !  Praise 
man !  Go  from  my  house  never  to  return  !  It 
will  be  your  house  soon  as  you  know  well,  but  as 
long  as  I  am  here  you  shall  not  cross  its  threshold." 
Her  long  finger  shook  as  it  pointed  at  the  door, 
and  in  her  staring  eyes  there  was  a  look  that  bor- 
dered on  hatred. 


ONE      YEAR  271 

"  Why  do  you  not  go  ?  "  she  asked,  as  he  did 
not  move.  "  Have  you  anything  to  say  in  your 
excuse  ?  You  shall  have  your  money,  every  penny 
of  it,  but  you  are  no  longer  my  friend." 

Malewicz  walked  to  the  door  without  speaking, 
then  turned,  as  though  on  some  sudden  resolution. 

"  I  have  only  one  thing  to  say  in  my  defence,"  he 
said  hurriedly — "  I  love  your  daughter,  I  have  loved 
her  for  long.  Give  me  the  money  if  you  will, 
but  give  me  her  with  it,  and  neither  she  nor  you 
need  descend  by  one  step  from  your  present  estate." 
He  looked  at  her  with  passionate  entreaty,  the 
look  of  a  man  who  is  making  his  last  desperate 
move. 

Madame  Bielinska  sat  rigid  for  a  moment  longer, 
then  slowly  sank  back  in  her  chair. 

"  It  is  a  plot,  then,"  she  murmured  between  her 
working  lips ;  "  you  would  be  the  generous  creditor 
who  would  sacrifice  himself  in  order  to  preserve 
to  us  our  bread  and  butter — you  would  crush  us 
with  your  magnanimity.  No,  no,  Pan  Malewicz, 
you  need  not  hope  to  get  either  my  consent  or  my 
daughter's  to  so  obvious  a  financial  arrangement ; 
we  may  be  poor  but  we  are  not  base." 

Malewicz  turned  to  me.  "  Ask  this  lady,"  he 
said  with  flaming  eyes,  "ask  Miss  Middleton  if  I 
am  sacrificing  myself,  or  if  I  am  pleading  for  the 
fulfilment  of  what  has  been  my  one  thought  for 
years — if  I  look  on  myself  as  the  giver  or  the  re- 


272  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

ceiver;  she  knows  a  little  of  what  there  is  in  my 
heart." 

Madame  Bielinska  considered  him  for  a  moment, 
her  attention  arrested  in  spite  of  herself,  then  she 
obstinately  shook  her  head. 

"  No,  no — it  may  be  that  you  love  her,  but  she 
cannot  love  you,  she  has  loved  another,  too,  lately. 
And  then  you  are  false,  you  have  deceived  me — I 
would  not  have  such  a  son.  Go,  I  tell  you,  go, 
and  do  not  return  !  " 

He  went  then  without  another  word,  and  with 
only  one  long,  questioning  look  in  my  direction. 

I  did  not  wait  for  Madame  Bielinska  to  speak. 

"  You  will  call  him  back  again,"  I  said  reproach- 
fully, "if  not  to-day  then  to-morrow." 

"  Never  !  "  she  answered  vehemently,  "  he  has 
cheated  me !  " 

"  But  if  Jadwiga  were  to  love  him  ?  If  she 
were  to  come  to  love  him  ?  " 

She  moved  uneasily  in  her  chair. 

u  That  will  not  be,  and  if  it  were  to  be  it — would 
not  do.  That  would  be  too  easy  a  way,  don't  you 
see.  We  need  not  descend  from  our  social  estate, 
he  said — but  I  want  to  descend,  I  want  to  suffer 
materially  instead  of  mentally,  else  there  would  be  no 
penance,  nothing  to  make  me  feel  that  I  had  indeed 
paid  the  price  of  that  sin — it  would  not  hurt  enough, 
don't  you  see  ? "  And  she  raised  her  haggard  eyes 
to  my  face,  struggling  to  express  her  meaning. 


O  N  E      Y  E  A  R  273 

I  understood,  and  left  her  with  a  sigh,  foreseeing 
a  new  inimical  influence  to  the  union  which  I  still 
hoped  to  bring  about.  It  was  clear  that  she  could 
not  forgive  the  man  who  could  have  quenched  her 
thirst  for  penance  two  months  ago  and  had  not 
done  so. 

I  had  an  idea  that  Jadwiga  ought  not  to  be  left 
alone,  but  she  had  locked  herself  into  her  room, 
and  not  being  able  to  reach  mine  except  through 
hers  I  was  forced  to  look  for  another  refuge.  This 
I  found  in  the  store-room,  where  Marya,  assisted 
by  Anulka,  who  had  offered  herself  in  the  hopes  of 
there  being  stray  spoons  to  lick,  was  engaged  in 
arranging  long  rows  of  preserves.  Too  restless 
for  solitude  I  likewise  commenced  handing  up  jam- 
pots. 

Presently,  while  we  three  were  thus  busy,  a 
shadow  fell  in  the  doorway.  Turning  round  I  al- 
most started  to  see  Malewicz  looking  at  me  with  a 
distinct  request  in  his  eyes. 

"  I  thought  you  were  gone,"  I  said,  as,  putting 
down  the  pot  I  held,  I  joined  him  in  the  passage. 

"  I  am  going  presently,  do  not  fear,  but  I  should 
like  to  speak  to  you  for  a  few  minutes  alone.  Is 
there  no  place  where  we  will  not  be  seen  ?  I  am 
a  proscribed  criminal,  you  know,  and  I  should  not 
like  to  be  turned  out  of  the  house  door." 

Just  then  we  came  to  a  door  standing  ajar,  and 
which  led  to  a  square  space  at  the  head  of  the 


274  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

cellar  staircase,  a  sort  of  ante-chamber  to  the 
cellar,  so  to  say,  where  empty  wine  casks  and  cork- 
less  bottles  stood  about  in  a  dim  half  light,  plenti- 
fully draped  with  cobwebs. 

"  No  one  will  find  us  here,"  I  said,  sitting  down 
on  an  overturned  packing  case. 

There  were  plenty  more  seats  of  the  sort  avail- 
able, and  Malewicz,  having  taken  another,  and 
disposed  of  his  long  legs  as  best  he  could  among 
the  bottles,  began  speaking  at  once,  though  in  a 
guarded  voice. 

"  This  is  probably  the  last  time  I  shall  be  in 
this  house,  and  I  should  like  one  person  at  least  to 
know  exactly  how  matters  stand." 

"You  have  known  the  truth  all  along?"  I 
asked,  trying  to  read  his  face  in  the  half  light. 

"  Not  quite  all  along." 

"  Since  when,  then  ?  " 

"  Since  two  days  before  Hazimir  Bielinski's 
death.  On  that  day,  as  I  once  told  you,  the 
strange  monk  came  to  Roma  Wielka.  I  received 
him  as  a  matter  of  course,  just  as  Bielinski  received 
him  next  day.  I  was  only  twenty  at  the  time,  but 
already  my  own  master,  my  father  having  died 
some  years  previously.  When  he  heard  my  name 
the  stranger — he  knew  no  word  of  Polish — seemed 
struck ;  he  had  evidently  come  to  the  house  with- 
out inquiring  who  the  owner  was.  He  sat  still  for 
some  moments  as  though  plunged  in  deep  thought, 


O  N  E      Y  E  A  R  275 

from  which  he  awoke  to  throw  a  piercing  glance 
round  the  room.  *  But  I  thought  your  family  was 
rich,'  he  said  with  a  somewhat  brutal  directness. 
4 1  am  certain  I  have  heard  it  was  rich.'  I  was 
young  enough  to  be  annoyed  at  the  remark,  and 
answered  stiffly  that  he  had  heard  aright,  but  that 
riches  are  not  necessarily  permanent.  The  French 
monk  shook  his  head.  4  Oh,  the  cards,'  he 
groaned,  c  the  cards  !  I  knew  they  would  be  his 
perdition.  Your  father  had  a  great  loss  in  Paris  in 
185 — ,  had  he  not  ? '  I  replied  that  he  had  sus- 
tained various  losses,  wondering  the  while  at  my 
visitor's  information  and  at  his  tenacity.  4  But,' 
he  went  on  with  evidently  growing  interest,  '  that 
loss  was  retrieved.  Do  you  not  remember  having 
heard  of  any  great  gain  he  made  since  that  time  ? 
— of  any — what  shall  I  call  it  ? — good  turn  that 
came  to  your  fortunes  after  the  year  185 —  ?  But, 
to  be  sure,  you  were  a  child  then.'  To  this  I  an- 
swered that  from  what  my  mother  had  told  me — 
she  was  recovering  from  a  severe  illness  at  the 
time,  and,  therefore,  not  present — I  was  almost 
certain  that  since  the  year  he  spoke  of  my  father 
had  done  nothing  but  steadily  lose.  I  could  see 
by  the  monk's  face  that  this  perplexed  him  ex- 
tremely. 4  Is  there  not  a  house  in  the  neighbour- 
hood called  Ludniki  ? '  he  asked  after  a  minute's 
silence,  and  when  I  answered  in  the  affirmative,  he 
went  on :  *  And  whom  does  it  belong  to  now  ? ' 


276  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

'To  Hazimir  Bielinski,'  I  replied.  'That  cannot 
be,'  he  said  quickly,  *  it  must  have  been  sold  long 
ago.'  c  For  what  reason?'  I  objected.  'The 
family  is  perfectly  well  off,'  and  I  think  I  added, 
4  The  cards  were  less  fatal  to  them  than  to  us.' 

"  My  strange  visitor  seemed  able  to  contain 
himself  no  longer.  He  left  his  seat  and  began 
pacing  the  room  with  wide  steps,  his  brown  frock 
beating  against  his  bare,  sandalled  feet,  his  rosary 
clanking  by  his  side  like  a  sword.  His  movements 
alone  would  have  betrayed  him  for  a  Frenchman. 
'  Perfectly  well  off,'  he  repeated,  4  are  you  sure  of 
what  you  say  ?  Are  you  sure  that  there  has  been 
no  fall  in  the  fortunes  of  Hazimir  Bielinski  within 
the  last  twenty  years  ?  Think  well  before  you 
speak.'  I  could  only  repeat  my  former  statement. 
He  took  two  more  turns  in  the  room,  his  hand 
working  the  while  in  his  black,  scarcely  grizzled 
beard,  and  then  he  burst  out  with  a  vehemence  that 
shook  me,  '  Ah,  le  lache  !  then  he  has  lied  to  me 
and  to  God  !  He  has  flourished  upon  his  wrong- 
ful gains — may  the  devil  take  his  soul ! '  But  he 
had  scarcely  said  it  when  he  crossed  himself 
quickly.  l  God  forgive  the  sinful  words  that  came 
to  my  lips,'  he  said.  l  It  is  not  the  devil  who  can 
help  here ;  it  is  God  alone,  and  I  as  His  instru- 
ment. Young  man,  I  have  come  to  you  in  a  good 
hour.  Your  home  is  poor — it  needs  not  eyes  as 
sharp  as  mine  to  see  it — but  I  can  make  it  rich 


O  N  E      Y  E  A  R  277 

again,  or,  if  not  rich,  I  can  at  least  give  you  back 
comfort — comfort  which  is  yours  by  all  the  laws 
of  heaven  and  earth.  You  have  been  robbed,  my 
son,  you  have  been  robbed,  and  you  know  it  not !  ' 

"And  then,  while  I  listened  in  amazement, 
more  than  half  persuaded  that  I  was  harbouring  a 
lunatic,  he  told  me  the  story  of  those  two  even- 
ings at  Paris,  exactly  as  it  is  told  in  the  letters 
which  we  both  know,  only  judged  from  a  different 
point  of  view.  He  spoke  of  the  correspondence 
which  had  passed  between  him  and  Bielinski,  of 
his  own  conversion  on  what  he  had  believed  to  be 
his  death-bed.  He  reproached  himself  in  bitter 
words  with  not  having  kept  his  eye  on  Bielinski 
through  the  cloister  gates,  so  to  say.  c  I  was  too 
much  absorbed  by  my  own  soul,'  he  said,  c  my  soul 
which  I  had  only  newly  discovered,  to  have  any 
thoughts  ever  for  the  souls  of  others.  And,  be- 
sides— God  be  my  witness  ! — I  believed  him.  Oh, 
le  lache  !  But  I  will  go  to  him  to-morrow.  It  is 
God  who  has  led  my  steps  this  way.  I  shall  save 
his  soul  in  spite  of  himself,  and  I  shall  give  you 
back  what  is  rightfully  yours.' 

"  Well,"  continued  Malewicz,  "  he  went  next 
day — you  know  with  what  result.  You  can  well 
imagine  the  excitement  which  the  revelation  had 
caused  in  my  twenty-year-old  heart.  Poverty  had 
never  been  congenial  to  me ;  it  was  antipathetic  to 
my  mother,  even  though  she  herself  might  not 


278  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

know  it.  I  went  to  bed  that  night  in  a  tumult  of 
perplexity  and  hope,  and  dreamed  of  years  of  com- 
fort to  come.  It  became  clear  to  me  now  why 
Hazimir  Bielinski  had  so  often  offered  me  money, 
and  I  felt  thankful  that  I  had  never  taken  it.  He 
was  not  unscrupulous  though  he  might  be  weak, 
and  no  doubt  it  inconvenienced  him  to  see  me  in  so 
sorry  a  plight. 

"  I  was  startled  out  of  my  new  hopes  by  the 
news  of  the  horrible  catastrophe.  Like  almost 
every  one  in  the  neighbourhood  I  hurried  to  Lud- 
niki  to  assure  myself  of  the  truth,  for  it  was  not  to 
be  believed  in  hearsay  alone.  I  saw  them  both 
lying  in  their  blood,  and  to  me  alone  of  all  the  hor- 
ror-stricken spectators  the  explanation  of  the  dread- 
ful event  was  as  clear  as  day ;  I  alone  could  read 
the  meaning  of  that  stiff",  right  hand,  which,  even 
in  death,  seemed  to  keep  its  gesture  of  denuncia- 
tion. Why  did  I  not  speak,  you  will  ask  ?  Think 
of  the  situation ;  could  I  overwhelm  the  already  so 
deeply  stricken  family  by  handing  out  the  disgrace- 
ful key  to  the  enigma  ?  I  was  young,  remember, 
and  far  too  much  shaken  to  think  of  claiming  my 
rights  in  the  presence  of  those  two  corpses.  Later 
on,  I  said  to  myself,  it  will  be  time  enough  to  re- 
trieve what  is  my  due  ;  I  must  let  the  unhappy 
woman  find  the  ground  under  her  feet  again.  Be- 
sides, all  the  proofs  I  had  in  my  hands  were 
merely  moral  ones ;  the  family  might  choose  to  ac- 


O  N  E      Y  E  A  R  279 

cept  them  or  they  might  not.  More  valid  proofs 
might  perhaps  be  procurable.  I  knew  that  Bie- 
linski's  letters  had  not  been  destroyed,  for  the 
Vicomte,  turned  monk,  had  told  me  so  himself. 
They  were  deposited  somewhere  in  Paris — research 
and  inquiry  might  bring  them  to  light;  but  I  put 
that  all  off  for  later,  and  meanwhile  I  held  my 
tongue  even  toward  my  mother,  for  I  well  knew, 
that,  once  shared  by  her,  my  secret  would  be  a 
secret  no  longer.  Thus  a  year,  two  years  passed, 
and  I  still  hesitated  to  act,  and  then — and 
then " 

Malewicz  broke  off  his  narrative  and,  leaning 
forward  on  his  primitive  seat,  stared  moodily  at 
the  wall  opposite.  Now  that  my  eyes  had  got  ac- 
customed to  the  half  light  I  could  read  every  shade 
of  expression  on  his  dark,  keen  face,  and  could 
even  note  the  threadbare  appearance  of  the  black 
coat  which  hung  so  loosely  on  his  gaunt  figure. 

"Then  I  began  to  understand  that  I  loved  her," 
he  said,  sinking  his  voice  by  another  tone.  His 
foot  touched  an  empty  bottle  as  he  spoke  and  made 
it  clink  against  its  neighbour.  He  looked  anxiously 
toward  the  door,  afraid  of  having  betrayed  our 
presence.  Despite  my  agitation  our  situation  in 
the  midst  of  these  barrels  and  packing-cases  and  in 
the  gloom  of  these  dusty  corners  irresistibly  re- 
minded me  of  the  games  of  hide  and  seek  I  had 
played  with  Henry — oh,  so  many  years  ago.  I 


280  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

had   played  another  game  of  hide  and  seek  with 
him  since  then — but  enough  of  that  now. 

"  She  was  but  a  child,"  went  on  Malewicz,  al- 
most whispering  now,  "  and  already  I  knew  that 
for  me  there  was  going  to  be  no  other  woman  in 
the  world.  From  the  moment  that  I  understood 
this  I  also  understood  that  I  should  have  to  be 
silent  for  ever.  I  might,  perhaps,  have  been  able  to 
put  her  family  to  disgrace,  but  not  herself.  I  will 
not  say  that  I  took  my  resolution  with  a  light 
heart.  From  the  moment  I  decided  that  I  could 
not  speak  I  scarcely  felt  able  to  look  my  mother  in 
the  eyes.  It  was  no  good  working  like  two  men 
instead  of  one  in  order  to  procure  to  her  a  few  of 
the  comforts  which  she  required  almost  as  much  as 
daily  bread — it  was  no  good  going  to  bed  hungry 
and  wearing  my  clothes  so  long  as  they  would  hang 
upon  me ;  although  I  more  than  once  half-killed 
myself  with  sheer  work,  it  was  only  the  bread  I 
could  manage  to  give  her — very  dry  bread,  for  the 
most  part — and  I  could  not  keep  my  eyes  shut  to 
the  fact  that  I  was  sacrificing  my  mother  to  a 
woman  who  would  probably  never  love  me.  Peo- 
ple talked  of  my  filial  devotion,  but  in  my  heart  of 
hearts  I  knew  that  I  was  a  bad  son — a  bad  son, 
because  too  good  a  lover.  Perhaps  it  was  a  crime, 
and  perhaps  it  is  for  this  crime  that  Heaven  is  pun- 
ishing me  so  heavily  now.  But  for  the  unfortunate 
reappearance  of  those  letters,  my  secret  would 


ONE      YEAR  281 

have  been  buried  with  me.  From  the  moment  of 
their  arrival  Bazyli  Lewicki  has  been  my  terror, 
just  as  he  has  been  Madame  Bielinska's  hope. 
The  monk  had  mentioned  him  as  having  been 
present  on  the  critical  evening,  and  I  was  tor- 
mented with  the  idea  that  a  word  of  his  might  put 
her  on  the  right  track.  You  see  how  true  that  pre- 
sentiment was.  Do  you  understand  now  why 
Jadwiga  had  to  be  won  by  storm,  if  she  was  to  be 
won  at  all  ? "  He  looked  at  me  piercingly,  with 
anguish  in  his  black  eyes. 

"And  your  correspondence  with  Paris  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  A  farce,"  he  replied,  looking  me  straight  in  the 
face.  "I  wrote  the  letters,  it  is  true,  but  only 
those  of  which  I  felt  sure  that  they  could  lead  to 
no  result.  It  was  as  good  a  way  as  any  other  of 
keeping  Madame  Bielinska's  thoughts  steadily 
turned  toward  Paris." 

"  And  you  could  play  this  comedy  ? "  I  asked,  my 
senses  of  rectitude  outraged,  despite  my  pity  for  him. 

He  smiled  without  joy.  "  I  have  told  you  that 
I  am  half  an  Armenian.  I  have  no  remorse  for 
my  deception  :  the  only  thing  I  repent  of  is  the 
moment  of  weakness  which  betrayed  me  to  her  this 
morning.  After  that  moment  denial  would  have 
been  useless.  To  know  that  I  have  been  aware  of 
the  family  disgrace  for  so  long  past  will  only  add 
to  her  sense  of  humiliation ;  that  at  least  might 
have  been  spared  her ;  she  has  enough  to  bear  al- 


282  ONE      YEAR 

ready  !  "  He  looked  at  me  so  earnestly  and  with 
so  much  passionate  solicitude  in  his  eyes  that  I 
straightway  forgave  the  "Armenian"  for  the  too 
great  diplomacy  which  a  minute  before  had  roused 
my  British  blood. 

I  was  beginning  to  answer  him  when  outside  in 
the  passage  Anulka  raced  past,  calling  for  me  and 
loudly  announcing  that  the  soup  was  on  the  table. 
Clearly  it  was  time  to  evacuate  our  retreat,  and  ac- 
cordingly we  parted  without  any  more  words. 

And  now  I  come  to  the  most  astonishing  mo- 
ment of  this  eventful  day,  to  the  moment  which 
abruptly  and  rudely  tore  my  thoughts  away  from 
Jadwiga  and  turned  them  toward  myself. 

The  same  old  leather  post-bag  with  the  dim 
brass  fastenings — never  rubbed  up  by  any  chance 
— which  had  brought  disgrace  to  the  house  of  Bie- 
linski  was  to  bring  me  the  tidings  of  an  unexpected 
joy,  and  with  the  same  startling  suddenness. 

I  was  on  my  way  to  the  dining-room  when  my 
eye  caught  it  lying  on  the  lobby  table.  In  the 
general  agitation  nobody  had  thought  of  examining 
its  contents.  Probably  I  would  not  have  done  so 
either  if  a  somewhat  prolonged  silence  of  Agnes' 
had  not  made  me  feel  anxious.  I  emptied  the  bag 
on  the  table,  looking  out  for  my  friend's  hand- 
writing— it  was  not  visible,  and  yet  there  was  an 
English  stamp,  and  below  it — surely  my  over- 
strained nerves  were  playing  me  a  trick  ? — but 


O  N  E      Y  E  A  R  283 

was  that  not  a  handwriting  which  I  had  once 
known  better  than  my  own,  and  which  I  had  never 
thought  to  see  again  ? 

I  am  not  writing  my  own  story  but  Jadwiga's, 
and  so  it  is  not  necessary  to  give  the  exact  con- 
tents of  Henry's  letter;  let  it  be  sufficient  to  say. 
that  he  briefly  announced  to  me  the  unexpected 
death  of  an  aunt,  and  the  equally  unexpected 
legacy  for  which  he  figured  in  her  testament — a 
modest  enough  sum,  in  truth,  yet  large  enough  to 
make  his  marriage  no  longer  appear  in  the  light  of 
an  absurdity.  After  which  he,  somewhat  less 
briefly,  asserted  that  his  feelings  toward  me  had  un- 
dergone no  change  since  last  we  parted,  and  ended 
by  inquiring  after  the  condition  of  my  own. 

Again  I  take  refuge  in  the  statement  made  above, 
and  which  absolves  me  of  all  necessity  of  entering 
into  the  exact  sensations  produced  within  me  by 
this  astonishing  event ;  but  I  will  not  scruple  to  as- 
sert that  the  surprise  was  almost  too  great  for  me 
just  at  first,  the  light  almost  too  blinding,  the 
shock  almost  too  much  like  a  blow.  It  was  in  a 
state  of  mental  giddiness,  still  seasoned  with  in- 
credulity that  I  ate  my  soup — almost  cold  by  this 
time.  It  is  not  only  misfortune,  it  is  also  good 
fortune  which  occasionally  knocks  us  on  the  head 
so  brutally  as  almost  to  do  for  us  entirely. 

Was  it  possible  that  our  game  of  hide  and  seek 
had  come  to  an  end  for  ever  ? 


CHAPTER  XIX 

I  DID  not  at  once  sit  down  to  answer  Henry's 
letter ;  I  was  not  yet  mistress  of  myself  to  do  so. 
Not  that  I  exactly  disbelieved  in  my  good  fortune, 
but  that  I  had  lost  the  habit  of  personal  happiness 
too  completely  to  be  able  to  recover  it  at  a  mo- 
ment's notice.  Something  within  me  was  stiff 
with  unuse,  congealed  with  want  of  warmth,  and 
required  a  little  time  to  resume  its  action.  I  went 
about  my  usual  occupations  with  a  stupid  feeling  of 
unreality  about  it  all,  re-reading  Henry's  letter  at 
intervals,  prepared  each  time  to  find  that  I  had 
mistaken  his  meaning. 

The  day  was  closing  in  when  something  hap- 
pened which  seemed  in  one  moment  to  give 
me  back  all  my  powers  of  sensation.  It  was  but  a 
small  incident  in  itself,  valuable  probably  to  me 
alone. 

Lately  Jadwiga  had  almost  entirely  neglected  her 
piano ;  therefore  it  touched  me  with  a  sort  of  pleas- 
urable astonishment — as  I  was  wandering  in  the 
garden  after  sunset,  in  search  of  I  knew  not  what 
myself — to  hear  chords  that  were  broken  at  first, 
but  which  gradually  gathered  to  melody,  floating 
out  by  the  open  window.  In  one  moment  I  felt  it 
284 


O  N  E      Y  E  A  R  285 

— that  was  what  I  wanted — music,  and,  drawn  as 
though  by  an  invisible  thread,  I  entered  the  house 
and  approached  the  drawing-room  door;  but  there 
I  stood  still,  partly  for  fear  of  disturbing  the  player, 
partly  because  of  the  astonishment  within  me.  I 
thought  I  knew  every  shade  of  Jadwiga's  playing ; 
but  this  was  new  to  me.  The  opening,  unequal 
chords  had  given  the  impression  of  hands  groping 
about  on  the  keys  almost  helplessly ;  it  was  by 
degrees  only  that  they  warmed  to  their  task,  but, 
having  warmed  to  it,  they  drew  sounds  from  the 
old  piano  of  which  I  had  never  thought  it  capable. 
It  seemed  to  be  a  song  of  triumph  which  they  were 
ringing  out  of  the  yellow  keys,  a  wild  cry  of  victory, 
fierce,  abrupt,  and  yet  not  joyful ;  and  while  I 
listened,  breathless,  the  exultation  had  sunk  to 
lament.  Every  one — that  is,  every  one  susceptible 
to  music — knows  the  sort  of  melody  that  is  almost 
as  much  pain  as  pleasure  to  hear.  There  is  almost 
always  a  chord,  sometimes  a  single  note,  on  which 
the  pain  and  the  pleasure  seem  to  culminate,  which 
appears  to  dominate  the  whole,  and,  hearing  it,  you 
have  the  feeling  that  it  is  almost  unbearable,  that 
if  it  returns  but  once  more  you  will  have  to — you 
don't  know  exactly  what,  but  that,  at  any  rate,  it 
will  be  too  much  for  you.  It  was  this  sort  of 
music  I  was  listening  to  now,  and  each  one  of 
those  supreme  notes  seemed  to  stab  straight  into 
my  heart  like  a  well-aimed  knife.  Presently,  as  I 


286  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

leant  against  the  door  post,  listening,  I  discovered 
that  I  was  crying,  and  that,  despite  my  tears,  I  was 
happy,  and  at  last  believed  in  my  own  happiness. 
All  that  had  been  stiff  within  me  had  been  softened, 
all  that  had  been  cold  had  been  melted  by  that 
delivering  music. 

It  ceased,  and  I  opened  the  door,  meaning  to  say 
a  word  of  thanks  to  my  sweet  friend,  but  I  had  not 
taken  two  steps  before  I  stood  still,  disbelieving  my 
tear-blurred  gaze,  for  the  face  that  looked  at  me 
over  the  piano  was  not  the  one  I  had  expected  to 
see.  It  was  not  Jadwiga  who  sat  there,  it  was  her 
mother.  To  me  it  was  like  a  ridiculous  transfor- 
mation scene. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  I  murmured  in  groundless 
confusion,  "  I  fancied — I  thought " 

She  made  no  reply.  I  am  not  sure  that  she  even 
noticed  me.  Even  through  the  dusk  I  could  read 
the  dreamy,  far-off  look  on  her  emaciated  face — a 
look  of  inexpressible  satisfaction.  It  was  the  first 
time  she  had  played  for  eleven  years,  as  I  afterward 
heard ;  no  doubt  to  her,  too,  music  had  been  a 
saving  outlet  to  emotions  which,  without  it,  might 
have  come  near  to  kill  her. 

Late  that  night  I  sat  up  answering  Henry's 
letter.  I  could  not  sleep  until  I  had  done  so,  I 
now  suddenly  felt.  It  was  a  strange  sort  of  night, 
brilliant,  and  yet  wild,  with  weird  effects  of  illumi- 
nation, the  smallest  details  of  which  deeply  im- 


O  N  E      Y  E  A  R  287 

pressed  my  excited  fancy.  Moonlight  is  generally 
associated  in  our  minds  with  stillness  ;  but  to-night, 
although  the  moon  was  at  its  full,  a  wind  had  risen 
after  sunset,  which  kept  closing  the  clouds  over  its 
face,  thus  making  intervals  that  were  almost  as 
clear  as  day  alternate  with  sudden  darkness.  The 
path  of  light  traversing  the  lawn,  which  I  could  see 
from  my  window,  had  been  swallowed  into  black- 
ness and  a  dozen  times  emerged  again  from  the 
shadows.  A  dull,  banging  sound  in  the  distance 
told  me  that  a  window  had  been  left  unfastened 
somewhere  in  the  house ;  its  regularly  recurring 
beats  ran  as  a  sort  of  accompaniment  to  the  progress 
of  my  pen.  It  was  not  until  I  laid  it  down  finally 
that  my  nerves  began  to  rebel  against  the  irritation. 
Would  nobody  think  of  fastening  it  ?  I  asked  my- 
self. But  the  house  was  evidently  asleep ;  if  I 
wanted  that  window  fastened  I  should  have  to  do  it 
myself.  Accordingly,  with  carefully  shaded  candle, 
I  slipped  out  through  Jadwiga's  room,  and  set  out 
on  a  voyage  of  discovery. 

Nothing  is  so  deceptive  as  a  loose  window  on  a 
windy  night.  When  you  stand  still  to  listen  it 
regularly  stops  banging,  and  when  it  begins  again 
it  is  certain  to  be  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  house 
from  where  you  are.  I  had  looked  into  several 
rooms  without  discovering  anything,  when,  by  too 
abruptly  closing  a  door,  I  put  out  my  candle.  Not 
that  that  mattered  much,  for  the  intermittent  moon- 


288  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

light  would  come  to  my  aid.  Just  then  I  reached 
the  door  of  the  room  which  was  known  as  "  the 
Master's  room,"  and  opened  it  as  I  had  opened  the 
others.  As  I  did  so  I  felt  a  sensation  which  I  had 
never  experienced  before — that  of  my  hair  moving 
on  my  head — for  there,  at  the  far  end  of  the  room, 
with  its  back  turned  to  me,  there  stood  a  white 
figure  immovable,  a  human  figure  robed  in  flowing 
draperies.  It  was  just  then  one  of  the  moonlight 
intervals,  which  materially  added  to  the  ghastliness 
of  the  impression.  Out  of  doors,  among  trees  and 
grass,  moonlight  is  partly  awful  and  partly  enchant- 
ing ;  indoors,  however,  to  my  mind,  it  is  never 
anything  but  awful.  The  silver  flood  is  meant  for 
leafy  glades,  or  boldly  cut  rocks,  not  for  tables  and 
chairs,  framed  by  human  hands,  and  unable  to  bear 
each  wholesale  idealisation.  Admitted  into  the 
dwelling  of  man,  where  only  the  homely  lamp 
should  reign,  moonbeams  are  strangers,  and  bring 
with  them  I  know  not  what  sense  of  mournfulness 
and  desolation.  I  felt  something  of  this  as  I 
marked  the  glare  of  light  on  the  polished  table,  the 
harsh  reflection  on  the  leg  of  some  chair,  or  on  the 
corner  of  some  picture  frame  on  the  wall. 

It  was  in  front  of  one  of  these  pictures  that  the 
white  figure  stood  in  the  middle  of  a  flood  of  light 
which  gave  to  its  garments  an  element  almost  of 
transparency.  As  I  entered  it  turned  its  head,  and 
I  found  myself  looking  across  the  room  into  Jad- 


O  N  E      Y  E  A  R  289 

wiga's  deadly  pale  face.  But  there  was  something 
else  in  her  face  which  shocked  me  more  than  the 
pallor,  a  sort  of  fixity  in  the  painfully  wide-open 
eyes,  a  look  of  distress,  of  despair,  of  perplexity, 
— I  do  not  know  how  to  define  it,  but  a  look  I  had 
never  before  seen  on  any  human  face,  and  pray  to 
God  I  may  never  see  again.  A  sudden  remorse 
took  possession  of  me  at  the  sight,  for  having  since 
mid-day  lived  entirely  on  my  own  thoughts. 

"  Jadwiga !  "  I  exclaimed,  "  I  thought  you  were 
in  your  bed, — what  can  you  be  doing  here  ?  " 

As  I  drew  nearer  I  saw  that  the  picture  before 
which  she  had  been  standing,  apparently  in  rapt 
contemplation,  was  the  portrait  of  her  father, 
Hazimir  Bielinski. 

She  looked  at  me  for  so  long  and  so  blankly  be- 
fore answering  that  I  began  to  ask  myself  whether 
she  were  not  walking  in  her  sleep.  I  had  never 
seen  her  face  so  white  nor  her  eyes  so  black  before ; 
it  was  only  when  I  stood  close  to  her  that  I  dis- 
covered the  reason  of  this  blackness  to  be  the  ex- 
traordinary dilation  of  the  pupils.  I  touched  her 
hand  and  almost  shuddered  at  the  contact,  so  cold 
was  it,  but  my  movement  seemed  to  have  aroused 
her  from  a  sort  of  stupor. 

"  It  is  nothing,"  she  said  hastily,  passing  her 
hand  across  her  forehead.  "  I  could  not  sleep, — 
I  had  toothache,  so  I  came  to  look  for  some 
drops." 


290  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

"  But  the  drops  are  not  here,  surely  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  No, — I  know ;  I  came  in  here  for  something 
else.  I  had  fancy  to  look  at  Papa's  picture ;  I  was 
passing  the  door,  you  know." 

"A  strange  moment  for  looking  at  it  surely. 
Have  you  not  plenty  of  other  opportunities  ?  But 
you  will  come  to  bed  now,  Jadwiga,  will  you  not  ? " 
I  pleaded,  and  gently  took  hold  of  her  hand. 

41  Immediately  !  "  she  said,  turning  back  to  the 
picture ;  "  I  have  still  one  word  to  say  to  him." 

Her  manner  began  to  alarm  me  vaguely.  "  Jad- 
wiga," I  said,  feeling  principally  the  need  of  forcibly 
removing  her  thoughts  from  their  present  groove, 
" 1  have  something  to  tell  you, — something  good 
that  has  happened  to  myself,"  and  in  a  few  words 
I  gave  her  the  contents  of  Henry's  letter.  I  could 
not  be  sure  that  she  even  heard  me,  for  her  eyes 
remained  fixed  on  the  picture  while  I  spoke,  but  as 
I  paused  she  said  without  any  especial  emotion : 

"  So  you  will  marry  him,  I  suppose  ? " 

"  Of  course  I  will,"  I  replied,  foolishly  hurt  at 
this  indifference. 

"  I  hope  you  will  be  happy,"  said  Jadwiga,  turn- 
ing from  the  picture  and  beginning  to  walk  toward 
the  door.  But  she  was  scarcely  half-way  across 
the  room  when  she  turned  back  again,  and,  coming 
to  me,  took  my  two  hands  between  her  cold  ones. 

"  Then  at  least  one  of  us  is  to  be  happy,"  she 
said,  in  almost  her  old  voice.  "  Thank  God  for 


ONE      YEAR  291 

that !  "  and  I  felt  her  lips  upon  my  cheek, — they 
were  as  burning  as  the  fingers  were  cold. 

41  One  of  us  ?  "  I  asked,  keeping  hold  of  her 
hands.  "  Can  we  not  both  be  happy  yet  ?  " 

At  the  same  moment  the  moonlight  went  out, 
exactly  as  my  candle  had  done,  so  that  I  could  not 
see  what  there  was  in  her  face,  but  her  voice  was  a 
different  one  when  she  spoke. 

"  I  forgot,"  she  said  with  an  inexpressible  weari- 
ness in  her  tone,  "  you  are  an  accomplice ;  you  too 
would  make  me  have  a  financial  arrangement, — 
and  I  thought  you  understood  !  " 

"  Never  mind  what  I  am,"  I  said,  drawing  her 
toward  the  door;  "we  can  talk  of  that  to-morrow; 
come  to  bed  now." 

She  submitted  without  another  word  ;  and,  grop- 
ing my  way  along  the  dark  passage,  I  led  her  to  her 
room,  and  soon,  worn  out  with  emotions,  and  de- 
spite the  loose  window  which  continued  banging  in 
the  distance,  was  fast  asleep  myself. 

I  feel  that  I  must  hurry  to  the  end.  Gazing 
back  in  memory  on  the  day  that  followed  on  that 
night,  even  though  five  years  lie  between  them  and 
now,  I  find  that  my  nerves  are  not  equal  to  dwell- 
ing very  exhaustively  on  details. 

I  was  in  the  middle  of  a  dream  in  which  Henry 
and  I  were  engaged  in  fabricating  a  rabbit-hutch 
out  of  an  empty  wine-cask,  while  Anulka  built  a 
wall  of  jam-pots  round  it,  when  a  sharp,  rapping 


292  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

sound  which  did  and  yet  did  not  belong  to  the 
dream,  seemed  to  come  from  the  inside  of  the  cask. 
"  Can  it  be  the  rabbits  ?  "  I  asked  myself,  even  while 
beginning  to  come  to  my  senses, — "  but  they 
are  not  in  yet ; "  and  as  I  argued  thus  the  raps 
grew  louder  and  more  hurried,  and  I  awoke  with  a 
start  to  the  consciousness  that  somebody  was  knock- 
ing at  my  window. 

It  was  a  thing  that  had  never  happened  before, 
and  in  sudden  terror  I  sprung  to  the  ground  and 
ran  toward  the  light.  The  sun  was  not  up  yet, 
and  the  garden  was  full  of  mist,  the  first  autumn 
mist  of  the  season.  At  the  window  rising  out  of 
the  white  vapours,  there  was  a  face  which  I  did  not 
immediately  recognise — old  Andrej,  with  his  grey 
hair  all  tumbled  about  his  startled  eyes,  and  with 
his  lips  moving,  though  I  could  not  hear  him 
through  the  close  double  window.  In  nervous 
haste  I  tore  it  open. 

"  What  is  it  ?  What  is  it  ?  "  I  asked,  already 
infected  by  his  excitement. 

He  replied  by  pointing  vaguely  toward  the  vil- 
lage. 

"  Over  there,"  he  said,  breathing  hard,  for  he 
had  evidently  been  running  as  fast  as  his  old  legs 
could  carry  him ;  "  over  there!  come  quick!  Our 
young  lady, — oh  Mother  of  God,  our  young  lady  ! ' 

I  did  not  stop  to  ask  another  question,  for  the 
sense  of  disaster  was  upon  me  already.  Throwing 


O  N  E      Y  E  A  R  293 

on  the  clothes  I  found  nearest  at  hand,  and  pushing 
my  bare  feet  into  slippers,  I  ran  out  of  the  house. 
As  I  passed  through  Jadwiga's  room  I  scarcely  even 
looked  toward  the  bed;  I  knew  already  that  it 
would  be  empty. 

Andrej  was  at  the  gate  already,  and  once  assured 
that  I  was  following  him,  he  set  off  running  with- 
out once  looking  back. 

The  village  was  barely  beginning  to  awake. 
Here  and  there  a  door  was  open  and  a  yawning 
peasant  stretched  himself  on  the  threshold.  The 
basket  work  palings  and  the  straw-thatched  roofs 
loomed  bulkily  out  of  the  morning  fog.  I  noticed 
it  all  vaguely  as  I  ran  past,  and  noticed  also  as  a 
grotesquely  comical  detail  that  Andrej,  although 
he  had  on  his  green  livery  coat,  had  not  taken  time 
to  put  on  the  trousers  to  match,  his  legs  being  en- 
cased in  staringly  white  under-garments  which 
moved  before  me  through  the  mist,  almost  like  the 
twinkling  of  two  guiding  stars.  I  had  not  got 
half-way  down  the  village  street  when  I  lost  one 
of  my  slippers,  and  ran  on  with  one  foot  bare;  at 
another  time  I  suppose  I  could  not  have  borne  the 
pain  of  the  stones,  but  my  nerves  were  at  too  high 
a  tension  to  let  me  be  aware  of  anything  merely 
physical  just  now.  All  this  time  I  had  not  at- 
tempted to  conjecture  what  our  goal  was  or  what 
exactly  we  should  find  when  we  got  there.  I  re- 
member thinking  that  it  was  a  strange  place  to  look 


294  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

for  Jadwiga  in — out  here  in  the  public  road,  where 
she  had  not  put  her  foot  for  months,  and  it  seemed 
to  me  also,  as  I  kept  my  eyes  fastened  on  those 
white  legs  in  advance,  that  the  street,  stretching 
away  into  the  mist  and  slowly  disclosing  one  feature 
after  another,  would  never  come  to  an  end.  Andrej's 
hut  lay  in  this  direction,  and  I  think  that,  on  the 
whole,  I  expected  most  to  be  taken  there ;  but  we 
came  to  the  opening  of  the  narrow  willow  lane  I 
knew  so  well,  and  passed  it,  still  at  a  run,  and  sud- 
denly it  flashed  upon  me  that  we  were  going  to  the 
pond.  In  that  moment  I  think  I  knew  everything, 
though  I  only  clutched  the  shawl  huddled  round 
me  a  little  tighter,  and  stumbled  on  with  set  teeth. 
In  another  moment  figures  seemed  to  grow  out  of 
the  mist — unnaturally  tall  they  looked  against  the 
sky,  for  they  were  grouped  on  the  top  of  the  sloping 
bank.  When  I  had  climbed  the  side  panting,  An- 
drej  was  already  on  his  knees  beside  something 
which  lay  on  the  grass.  The  silent  group  parted 
to  let  me  pass,  and  then  I  saw  what  during  the  last 
horrible  minutes  I  had  almost  been  expecting  to 
see — Jadwiga  in  the  same  white  dressing-gown 
which  she  had  worn  last  night,  only  that  its  drenched 
folds  clung  closely  to  her  limbs,  and  with  her  wet 
face  turned  motionless  to  the  sky.  Her  hair  had 
come  undone  and  wandered  in  clammy  strains, 
shiny  as  water  serpents,  over  her  shoulders  and 
bosom,  twisting  right  round  one  of  her  arms  and 


O  N  E      Y  E  A  R  295 

even  her  neck;  her  lips  were  parted  and  her  half- 
open  eyes  brimful  of  water. 

I  had  almost  thrown  myself  upon  her,  wildly, 
despairingly,  when  it  occurred  to  me  that  there 
might  still  be  hope. 

"  The  doctor ! "  I  said,  angrily  shaking  the 
shoulder  of  the  loudly  wailing  Andrej.  "  Have 
you  sent  for  the  doctor  ?  Has  anything  been 
done  ?  She  must  be  taken  into  shelter  at  once." 

Nothing  had  been  done  as  I  might  have  known 
had  I  known  Ruthenian  peasants  better.  A  leader 
is  the  first  thing  they  need  in  anything  like  an 
emergency,  and  this  instinct  it  probably  was  which 
had  sent  the  distracted  Andrej  straight  to  my  win- 
dow. But  although  they  cannot  command  they 
know  how  to  obey.  Within  five  minutes  of  my 
appearance  on  the  scene  a  man  on  horseback  was 
on  his  way  to  Zloczek,  and  Jadwiga  transported  to 
Andrej's  hut  close  by,  and  lying  on  his  wife's  bed, 
whence  the  water  from  her  hair  and  clothes  dripped 
and  dripped  on  to  the  rude  floor.  Then  began  the 
last  forlorn  struggle — the  warming  of  blankets,  the 
trickling  of  w'odki  between  her  closed  teeth,  also 
the  burning  of  herbs  before  her  face,  recommended 
by  one  of  the  village  cronies.  Each  newcomer 
had  a  remedy  of  his  own,  of  which  he  positively 
asserted  that  it  must  bring  revival. 

Let  me  not  'live  through  those  hours  again — I 
scarcely  know  even  now  if,  indeed,  they  were  hours 


296  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

or  only  minutes — enough  to  say  that  she  did  not 
revive,  and  that  when  the  morning  sun,  struggling 
through  the  vapours,  poured  in  at  the  little  square 
window  I  knew,  without  any  doctor  to  tell  me  so, 
that  it  was  time  to  close  those  half-lifted  lids. 


CHAPTER  XX 

THE  next  thing  I  remember  is  walking  back 
again  through  the  village,  slowly  this  time,  and 
with  a  pair  of  shoes  belonging  to  Andrej's  wife  on 
my  feet.  In  front  of  us,  stretched  on  a  mattress 
they  carried  Jadwiga,  and  from  out  of  every  hut 
we  passed  some  man  or  woman  came  to  join  us. 
It  was  an  ever-increasing  but  silent  procession  that 
escorted  Jadwiga  back  to  the  home  which  she  had 
left  all  alone  before  daylight.  The  catastrophe 
was  such  as  to  impress  even  the  rustic  imagina- 
tion ;  solitary  sighs  were  heard  from  the  men,  an 
occasional  sob  from  a  woman,  a  muttering  of  prayer 
from  both  sexes,  but  no  loud  note  of  lamentation 
disturbed  the  solemnity  of  that  last  escort.  Ru- 
thenian  peasants  have  a  sense  of  fitness  which  some 
other  nations  lack,  and  I  believe  that  in  their 
humble  way  they  had  loved  her — no  one  could  es- 
cape loving  her — and  had  felt  a  common  pride  in 
"  our  young  lady's  "  beauty. 

On  the  verandah,  supported  by  Marya,  Madame 
Bielinska  stood,  already  informed  of  what  we  were 
bringing,  her  scanty  grey  hair  slipping  from  under 
the  night-cap  she  had  forgotten  to  remove,  her  face 
strangely  yellow  and  furrowed  in  the  full  morning 
light.  She  did  not  speak  as  the  bearers  mounted 
297 


298  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

the  steps,  but  her  arms  moved  helplessly  up  and 
down,  forward,  and  then  down  again,  and  these 
silent  gestures  said  more  than  any  words  could 
have  done;  but  I  had  no  thought  for  her  just  then, 
and  no  pity  either.  Anulka  was  not  visible ;  I 
learnt  since  that,  as  we  approached  the  house,  she 
had  been  carried  off  the  verandah  in  convulsions. 

The  next  hours  are  blurred  in  my  memory. 
Toward  evening  I  find  myself  again  standing  in 
the  big  drawing-room,  transformed  already  into  a 
sort  of  mortuary  chapel,  and  beside  the  couch  on 
which  Jadwiga  had  been  laid,  dressed  in  white,  as 
is  the  custom  of  the  country  for  young  girls,  and 
with  a  bridal  veil  flowing  over  her  clasped  hands 
and  long,  black  hair.  They  had  managed  to  get 
the  hair  dry  by  some  means  or  other,  and,  instead 
of  water  snakes,  it  now  resembled  carefully  sorted 
silken  strains.  The  garden  had  been  plundered  of 
its  asters  and  hollyhocks,  which  filled  every  recep- 
tacle that  could  be  made  to  hold  a  flower,  and  tall 
wax  candles  burnt  on  each  side  of  her. 

On  the  floor  at  the  foot  of  the  bier  there  cowed 
something  which  might  have  been  a  small  heap  of 
black  clothes.  I  went  up  and  laid  my  hand  upon 
it  mercilessly. 

"  Does  it  hurt  enough  now  ?  "  I  asked,  with  I 
know  not  what  feeling  of  savage  satisfaction  in  the 
midst  of  my  own  pain — and  I  pointed  to  the  form 
on  the  couch. 


O  N  E      Y  E  A  R  299 

The  unhappy  mother  lifted  her  face  to  me,  the 
scared,  quivering  face  of  a  broken  woman. 

"  It  does,"  she  said,  with  shaking  lips.  "  Surely 
it  will  be  paid  for  now  !  "  And  right  through  the 
depth  of  her  suffering  there  pierced  that  gleam  al- 
most of  fanaticism  which  I  had  seen  so  often 
within  the  last  few  months.  I  knew  then  that  she 
would  not  die  of  her  grief,  since  she  would  not  be 
without  consolation.  Jadwiga  would  be  to  her  not 
only  a  lost  child,  but  also  a  victim  of  atonement 
for  the  past. 


Two  days  later  I  again  traversed  the  village, 
sitting  in  a  carriage  this  time  beside  my  deeply 
veiled  employer,  whose  rigid  features  were  scarcely 
visible  through  the  density  of  the  black  crape.  We 
had  done  what  we  could  to  dissuade  her  from 
going,  but  she  was  bent  on  drinking  her  chalice  to 
its  dregs.  The  little  Greek  church,  all  of  wood, 
and  with  three  dark  brown  minarets  cut  clear 
against  the  wide  sky,  lay  separate  from  the  village, 
out  on  the  plain,  in  the  midst  of  its  still  leafy  cem- 
etery, which,  with  the  high  enclosing  paling, 
formed  a  sort  of  island  in  the  midst  of  the  flat 
fields.  There  it  was  that  the  Bielinski  family,  al- 
though belonging,  like  the  Poles,  to  the  Roman 
Catholic  Church,  had  its  bury  ing-place,  and  to  the 
Ruthenian  village  priest  it  was  that  the  Catholic 


300  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

cure  of  Zloczek  had  transferred  his  powers  for  the 
occasion. 

I  had  never  entered  one  of  those  so  naively  gor- 
geous village  churches  without  deep  emotion,  and 
it  will  be  well  believed  that  on  this  occasion  I  was 
less  than  ever  in  a  position  to  criticise  the  rude  yet 
impressive  details  of  my  surroundings.  The  tat- 
tered banners,  the  daubed  pictures,  the  crazy  can- 
dlesticks, the  bright  but  not  over-clean  altar-cloths, 
and  the  strings  of  glass  beads — for  a  village  church  in 
East  Galicia  is  as  full  of  miscellaneous  objects  as  a 
curiosity  box  of  curiosities — were  to  me  to-day 
nothing  but  the  background  to  Jadwiga's  coffin, 
and  all  this  truly  oriental  profusion  of  gilding  and 
of  colour,  over  which  the  dulness  of  time  had 
mercifully  passed,  seemed  there  only  to  do  her  hon- 
our. As  I  knelt  there,  clutching  a  monstrous  can- 
dle of  brown  bees-wax  which  it  took  both  my  hands 
to  support,  and  with  the  thick  scent  of  incense  in 
my  nostrils,  I  felt  as  though  I  were  alone  with  her, 
as  I  had  been  on  the  day  when  she  had  first  taken 
me  to  this  church  and  explained  to  me  the  sym- 
bolic pictures  on  the  wall.  There  were  some  she 
could  not  understand,  she  said — and  now,  where 
was  she ;  and  was  there  anything  more  which  she 
could  not  understand  ?  Surely  not. 

I  think  the  whole  village  must  have  been  in  the 
church  ;  from  my  place  beside  the  altar  and  through 
the  gilded  gates  flung  back  upon  their  hinges  I 


O  N  E      Y  E  A  R  301 

could  see  the  rude,  furrowed  faces  turned  motionless 
toward  the  priest  at  the  altar,  and  only  the  lips 
moving.  All  the  neighbours  were  there  too,  I  be- 
lieve ;  in  the  more  civilised  group  straight  opposite 
I  caught  a  sight  of  many  faces  which  had  grown 
familiar  within  the  past  year,  but  which  I  was  prob- 
ably looking  on  for  the  last  time. 

I  did  not  think  that  Madame  Bielinska  would 
succeed  in  reaching  the  grave,  but  she  did.  It  was 
not  until  the  priest  had  departed  and  the  earth  had 
begun  to  be  filled  in  that  she  seemed  to  require  the 
support  of  Marya's  arm,  who  gently  led  her  back 
toward  the  entrance.  I  did  not  follow  immedi- 
ately ;  I  had  a  fancy  to  see  the  last  earth-clod  laid 
on.  One  by  one  the  mourners  threaded  their  way 
back  between  the  green  mounds,  for  no  distinct 
path  led  to  the  enclosed  space  in  the  comer  of  the 
cemetery,  and  presently  I  found  myself  alone  with 
the  sexton. 

Half  an  hour  later  I  too  was  threading  my  way 
back.  The  church  door  still  stood  open,  and  I 
turned  that  way,  instead  of  toward  the  gate.  A 
few  minutes  more  alone  in  that  temple  of  ignorant 
but  real  piety  might  help  to  lay  a  little  of  the  tu- 
mult in  my  heart.  A  large  porch  with  benches  run- 
ning round  it  is  an  almost  invariable  feature  of 
these  churches  ;  as  I  was  traversing  this  one  I  per- 
ceived a  man  sitting  on  the  bench  with  his  elbows 
on  his  knees  and  his  face  in  his  hands.  At  the 


302  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

sound  of  my  step  on  the  hollow,  wooden  floor  he 
looked  up,  and  I  saw  a  face  that  was  at  the  same 
time  both  familiar  and  strange.  I  had  not  so  much 
as  given  a  thought  to  Malewicz  since  the  catas- 
trophe, and  the  sight  of  him  now  thus  startled  me 
out  of  my  own  pain,  by  reminding  me  that  there 
was  a  sorrow  here  even  greater  than  mine — no,  it 
was  more  than  a  sorrow,  it  was  a  despair.  When 
I  had  seen  him  three  days  ago  he  had  still  been  a 
young  man,  despite  everything,  but  the  stubby 
beard  which  was  now  sprouting  about  his  chin  and 
cheeks  was  already  the  beard  of  an  old  man.  I 
stood  looking  at  him,  wondering  if  he  would 
speak ;  he  did  so  only  after  a  long  minute. 

"  Tell  me,"  he  said,  hesitatingly  and  unevenly, 
plunging  his  eyes  into  mine  as  though  to  reach  the 
truth,  "  tell  me ;  why  is  it  ?  Is  it  because  she 
hated  me  that  she  did  it  ?  " 

He  had  not  thought  of  rising.  I  sat  down  be- 
side him  and,  in  the  depth  of  my  compassion,  laid 
my  hand  upon  his. 

"  No,"  I  answered,  "  it  is  not  that.  If  she  had 
hated  you  her  path  might  have  been  thorny  but  it 
would  have  been  clear.  It  was  not  loss  of  fortune 
that  she  was  afraid  of.  If  you  had  been  nothing 
at  all  to  her  she  would  only  have  needed  to  hand 
over  to  you  your  money  and  to  retire  with  her 
mother  into  obscurity — and  you  know  that  she  was 
strong  enough  for  that." 


O  N  E      Y  E  A  R  303 

His  eyes  fiercely  asked  for  more,  although  his 
lips  did  not  move. 

"  I  think,  on  the  contrary,  that  it  was  exactly 
her  doubts  as  to  her  own  feelings  which  drove  her 
to  the  step.  I  am  quite  certain  that  she  was  begin- 
ning to  foresee  the  possibility  of  returning  your  af- 
fection— she  almost  acknowledged  as  much  to  me 
— but  just  as  she  had  come  to  foresee  it  you  were 
unmasked  as  the  man  on  whose  generosity  the 
family  had  been  practically  living  for  the  last  dozen 
years.  To  some  spirits  such  generosity  is  unbear- 
able and  awakes  resentment  against  the  giver  rather 
than  gratitude.  Jadwiga  was  of  those  spirits. 
Two  days  before  her  death  she  said  to  me  : — '  It  is 
dreadful  to  owe  so  much  to  a  person  and  not  to  be 
able  to  pay  him  back ' — and  at  that  moment  she 
did  not  yet  know  the  whole  of  her  debt.  She 
could  not  pay  you  back  in  the  way  you  wanted  to 
be  paid  without  being  sure  that  she  loved  you,  and 
she  never  could  be  sure  now,  as  that  poor  half 
crazy  mother  of  hers  will  have  poured  into  her 
ears  on  that  last  unhappy  day — the  world,  for  one, 
as  her  mother  will  have  told  her,  would  never  be 
convinced  that  she  had  not  taken  you  merely  in 
order  not  to  have  to  part  with  the  money.  On  the 
one  side  there  was  the  ignominy  of  the  position,  on 
the  other  the  pang  of  renouncing  the  hope  new- 
born within  her — the  choice  was  impossible,  or  it 
seemed  to  her  impossible  at  the  first  glimpse  j  she 


304  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

had  not  the  patience  to  wait  and  let  her  emotions 
calm — she  always  was  inclined  to  do  things  '  sud- 
denly,' as  she  herself  called  it,  and,  therefore,  she 
preferred  to  cut  the  knot  of  perplexity  by  doing 
what  her  father  did.  Oh,  it  is  not  hard  to  under- 
stand, I  think.  You  must  remember  that  what  she 
has  gone  through  this  summer  would  be  enough  to 
profoundly  shake  any  nervous  system." 

"Then  it  was  my  love  that  killed  her,"  said 
Malewicz,  with  a  smile  that  frightened  me,  "  and 
you  think  I  can  go  on  living  ? " 

"  Hush  ! "  I  said,  pressing  my  hand  on  his. 
"  Not  a  word  of  that.  I,  too,  have  been  tempted 
to  brand  myself  a  murderess,  and  to  wonder  what 
would  have  been  if  I  had  kept  by  her  side  that  last 
day,  but  it  is  all  empty  and  useless.  We  have  both 
loved  her  and  we  have  both  failed  to  save  her.  Let 
it  be  enough  that  we  are  sure  of  our  intentions; 
let  us  not  look  back  too  intently,  for  madness 
might  very  likely  be  found  to  lie  in  that  direction." 

He  snatched  his  hand  from  mine  and  rose  from 
the  bench. 

11  Oh,  the  English  !  "  he  said  with  a  bitter  laugh, 
"  the  English  !  What  a  nation  of  common  sense  ! " 
And,  without  taking  leave  of  me,  he  descended  the 
wooden  steps  and  disappeared  round  the  shoulder 
of  the  church.  That  was  the  last  I  saw  of  Krys- 
ztof  Malewicz. 

Not  that  I  left  the  country  immediately.     De- 


O  N  E      Y  E  A  R  305 

spite  Henry's  urgent  summons  it  seemed  to  me  that 
to  abandon  Madame  Bielinska  at  this  moment 
would  scarcely  have  been  Christianlike.  Anulka, 
too,  in  her  desolation  clung  to  me  in  a  way  she  had 
never  clung  before,  and  I  felt  as  though  her  little 
thin  fingers  were  forcibly  keeping  me  back  on 
Polish  soil.  It  was  not  until  all  the  preliminaries 
for  the  handing  over  of  the  estate  to  Malewicz  had 
been  completed  that  I  thought  of  making  up  my 
parcels.  All  his  efforts  to  effect  a  compromise  had 
been  shattered  on  Madame  Bielinska's  immovable 
resolve.  Even  the  loan  of  the  house,  which  obvi- 
ously he  did  not  require,  she  indignantly  refused. 
No  doubt  she  hated  the  place  too  intensely  by  this 
time  to  go  on  living  there. 

The  eve  of  my  departure  from  Ludniki  was  also 
almost  the  eve  of  the  Bielinskis'  farewell  to  their 
ancient  home.  On  that  last  afternoon  I  went  once 
more  to  the  cemetery.  For  want  of  flowers — for 
by  this  time  autumn  was  far  advanced — I  had 
made  a  wreath  of  coloured  leaves — just  the  sort  of 
wreath  Jadwiga  had  worn  on  her  head  when  I  met 
her  for  the  first  time  in  the  park,  scarcely  more 
than  a  year  ago.  It  was  a  grey,  windy  day,  and  as 
I  stood  beside  the  earth  heap,  that  was  marked  as 
yet  by  no  monument,  a  curious  feeling  of  rebellion 
grew  out  of  my  sadness.  I  was  going  home  to 
love  and  happiness.  Fate  had  treated  me  kindly 
indeed,  and  yet  I  could  not  forgive  her  for  her 


3o6  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

cruelty  to  the  victim  who  slept  here.  Was  there 
not  something  almost  against  nature  in  the  thought 
that  I,  the  elder  and  plainer  woman,  should  have 
grasped  that  crown  of  life  which  had  been  refused 
to  her,  that  my  sun  of  happiness  should  be  dawning 
just  as  hers  had  gone  down  forever  ? 

While  I  stood  thus  a  gust  came  sweeping  over 
the  green  mounds,  bringing  with  it  a  shower  of 
leaves.  As  I  watched  them  chasing  each  other 
round  the  railed-off  enclosure,  a  strain  of  melody, 
to  which  I  could  not  immediately  give  a  name,  be- 
gan to  work  in  my  brain.  Those  mad  leaves 
seemed  to  be  moving  to  some  familiar  measure. 
Presently  I  had  got  it :  the  perplexing  finale  to 
Chopin's  funeral  march.  But  now,  with  Jadwiga's 
own  words  coming  back  to  my  memory,  it  per- 
plexed me  no  longer.  Yes,  there  they  were,  the 
yellow  and  red  ones,  the  speckled  and  the  striped 
ones,  gay  as  harlequins  and  lively  as  imps — those 
that  looked  as  though  they  had  been  dipped  in 
blood,  and  the  pale  ones  with  the  black  spots, 
which  to  Henry  and  me  had  always  appeared  like 
slices  of  current  cake — there  they  were,  hopping  in 
and  out  of  the  railing,  giddily  whirling  upon  the 
new-made  grave.  Surely  it  must  have  been  at  such 
a  season  and  on  such  a  spot  that  the  idea  of  that 
last  bewildering  passage  had  crept  into  the  Polish 
master's  imagination. 

*  *  *  *  *  * 


O  N  E      Y  E  A  R  307 

That  night  as  I  lay  awake  in  bed  I  heard  the 
outer  door  open,  and  through  the  empty  room 
which  had  been  Jadwiga's  there  came  a  pattering 
of  bare  feet.  In  another  minute  invisible  hands 
were  groping  about  me,  and  Anulka's  voice  im- 
plored : — 

"  I  could  not  sleep  over  there,  so  far  from  you. 
Let  me  in,  please,  oh,  please  !  I  will  lie  so  still ! " 

With  the  deftness  of  a  little  snake  she  slipped  in 
under  the  cover,  and  I  could  feel  the  chill  of  her 
little  cold  feet  against  mine. 

"There  is  one  thing  you  must  tell  me  before 
you  go,"  she  whispered  as  I  took  her  into  my 
arms;  "what  am  I  to  do  to  be  like  Jadwiga?  I 
should  like  people  to  be  happy  when  I  am  there, 
as  they  were  with  her,  and  unhappy  when  I  die,  as 
they  are  unhappy  about  her.  After  all  it  is  nicer 
when  people  like  you  ;  tell  me,  did  they  only  like 
her  because  she  was  beautiful  ?  because  then  I 
should  have  no  chance." 

I  was  too  astonished  to  answer  immediately ; 
the  question  was  so  unlike  the  Anulka  I  had  known 
till  now. 

"No,"  I  said  at  last,  "they  did  not  like  her  only 
because  she  was  beautiful,  but  also  because  her 
heart  was  so  full  of  kindness  that  it  overflowed. 
God  forbid  that  you  should  be  as  Jadwiga  was  in 
everything,  for  that  would  probably  mean  to  suffer 
as  much  as  she  suffered,  but  if  you  could  get  her 


3o8  O  N  E      Y  E  A  R 

kind  heart  without  her  impulsive  temper  you 
would  certainly  be  loved  and  perhaps  you  would 
even  be  happy." 

We  talked  for  a  little  longer  in  the  dark,  and 
when  at  last  she  fell  asleep  in  my  arms  I  prayed  to 
God  that  the  shock  of  the  catastrophe  might  prove 
to  have  been  the  convulsion  needed  for  the  awak- 
ening of  the  soul. 

Four  days  later  I  landed  in  England,  and  from 
the  moment  that  I  caught  sight  of  Henry's  face 
among  the  waiters  on  the  pier  I  began  to  live  my 
own  life  again. 

That  was  five  years  ago,  and  sometimes  I  am 
half  persuaded  that  the  events  of  my  one  year  of 
exile  have  no  more  substance  than  that  well-known 
stuff  of  which  dreams  are  made,  so  badly  do  they 
fit  into  my  present  placid,  and — let  me  say  it  boldly 
— humdrum  existence.  Have  I  ever  really  seen  a 
church  with  three  minarets,  or  a  meadow  dotted 
with  storks  ?  I  could  almost  doubt  it,  but  for  the 
sharp  state  at  my  heart  when  I  think  of  these 
things.  Besides,  there  is  the  parcel  of  letters 
which  Agnes  has  given  back  to  me,  and  which  can- 
not be  explained  away,  and  occasionally,  though  at 
more  and  more  rare  intervals,  there  is  a  shred  of 
news  which  reaches  me  from  over  there.  Madame 
Bielinska  is  living  in  lodgings  in  Limberg  with 
Anulka,  who  is  being  educated  for  a  governess.  I 
wonder  what  sort  of  a  one  she  will  make,  by  the 


O  N  E      Y  E  A  R  309 

bye  ?  Malewicz  has,  after  all,  gone  on  living;  he 
is  unmarried,  but  I  do  not  think  it  impossible  that 
he  may  marry  yet,  not  to  please  himself,  but  his 
mother,  to  whom  he  will  always  feel  that  he  owes 
a  reparation.  As  for  Wladimir,  I  have  heard  that 
on  his  return  from  his  Eastern  voyage  he  was  dis- 
covered one  day  on  his  knees  and  in  tears  on  Jad- 
wiga's  grave,  sobbing  out :  "  How  she  must  have 
loved  me !  "  No  doubt  he  will  die  persuaded  that 
Jadwiga  took  her  life  because  she  could  not  live 
without  him.  Meanwhile  he  has  found  some  one 
to  dry  his  tears  for  him — no  other  than  the  elder 
of  the  two  giggling  sisters  who  had  squeezed  so 
many  jokes  out  of  the  semi-culinary  Christmas 
party,  and  whose  father  is  one  of  the  notabilities 
of  the  neighbourhood. 

I  am  as  happy  as  the  love  of  husband  and  child 
can  make  me,  and  yet  I  have  a  place  in  my  heart 
which  belongs  to  neither  husband  nor  child.  In 
some  moments — such,  for  instance  as  when  some 
one  asks  me  why  I  have  called  my  little  girl  by 
such  a  strange  out-landish  name  as  Jadwiga — it  is 
to  that  place  I  retire — alone  with  my  memories. 


THE    END 


A     000  128  372     o 


